Miscommunication
by Ragua
Summary: Trip's desire to learn Vulcan has unintended consequences.
1. Chapter 1

**Miscommunication**

A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute   
  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.  
  
**Chapter 1**  
  
Trip took another deep breath and exhaled slowly, hoping that it didn't sound too much like a sigh. He opened his eyelids slightly to peek at his meditation partner. She sat like a statue. Obviously the candles and the cross-legged pose were working for her. He, on the other hand, was sweating profusely, and his knees were crying out in protest. How long had they been sitting here? He closed his eyes and tried to focus.  
  
When T'Pol had invited him to meditate with her, he had been ecstatic. Trip knew Vulcans took their meditation seriously, so the fact that she had been willing to share the experience with him seemed tantamount to a declaration of love. He hadn't expected it to be more like a torture session.  
  
They were currently performing the _Tal t'li_, the first meditation of adult training, according to T'Pol. Maybe he should have asked her to start him off on kiddie meditation. Were there training wheels for meditation?   
  
_There oughta be_, Trip thought sourly. What, exactly, was he supposed to be getting out of this? He knew that meditation helped Vulcans to suppress their emotions, but he didn't _want_ to suppress his emotions. So what was the point? Maybe this was the Vulcan version of the chick flick—something the guy had to endure in order to get on his girl's good side.  
  
This thought sent his brain off on another tangent: _Was_ T'Pol his girl? Damned if he knew.  
  
Trip peeked at her again. God, she was gorgeous. Her skin glowed like bronze in the candlelight. That pouty lower lip was just begging to be nibbled. The way her breasts rose and fell as she breathed deeply—  
  
_Get a grip, Tucker!_ he chided himself. _You're here to support your friend, not to get your groove on._ Trip shut his eyes tightly, taking another deep breath. But he couldn't refrain from peeking at her one more time. He let his breath out slowly as his eyes traveled down her body.  
  
Commander, you will never master the _Tal t'li_ if you continue to stare at me rather than finding your focus. T'Pol's voice startled Trip out of his anatomical appreciation. His eyes jerked guiltily back up to meet hers.   
  
_Uh-oh_, Trip thought. She was giving him The Stare.  
  
He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. Sorry, T'Pol. It's just real hard for me to sit like this for so long. Maybe I need to start out with something a little easier.  
  
The Stare did not abate. The _Tal t'li_ is the most basic level of Vulcan mediation. There _is_ nothing easier.  
  
Does it always go on for so long, though? Shouldn't you start people off with shortened sessions? Trip asked hopefully.  
  
I had intended to limit this session to thirty minutes for just that reason, Commander, T'Pol replied. At his puzzled look, she continued. We have been meditating for less than twenty minutes.  
  
Trip's jaw dropped in disbelief. Only twenty minutes? Feels like we've been sittin' here for hours!  
  
This was apparently not the appropriate response. Perhaps I erred in asking you to participate, T'Pol stated as she stood swiftly and began to move about her quarters, blowing out the candles.  
  
Trip leaped to his feet to assure her that this was not so, only to stumble about the room. His feet had fallen asleep! No, T'Pol! I'm honored that you asked me to—dammit! Trip hopped from one foot to the other, attempting to restore circulation. Sorry! It's just that I've never done anything like this. I probably need lots of practice before I can get it right.  
  
T'Pol turned to face him after blowing out the last candle. He shifted his weight back and forth, trying to get rid of the pins and needles in his feet and simultaneously convince her of his sincerity.  
  
She seemed to reconsider. It is true that Vulcans begin studying meditation techniques as young children. It would be illogical to expect a human to master the discipline without a great deal of practice. She continued to ponder this thought, sitting back down on her meditation cushion as she did so.  
  
Trip followed her lead, relieved. For some reason, however, being granted a stay of execution did nothing to inhibit his tendency to speak without first engaging his brain.  
  
T'Pol, why did you ask me to meditate with you, anyway? he blurted. I mean, it seems like something that would be easier to do when you're alone. She turned her eyes on him again. Not quite The Stare, but close. He felt his face redden.   
  
_Way to go, jackass,_ he railed at himself. _She's given you a golden opportunity to spend time with her, and you act like you don't want to be here!_ I meant...I just...meditation seems like it would be easier to do without another person here to distract you.  
  
T'Pol dropped her eyes, considering his words. What you say is true. However, it is not unusual for Vulcans to meditate with family...or..._t'hai'lu_. Often, having another person present can increase one's ability to focus.  
  
She looked back up at Trip, who was puzzling over the unfamiliar word.   
  
_T'hai'lu_. It is a Vulcan term.  
  
Yeah, I kinda figured it wasn't Klingon, Trip responded with a wry grin. It doesn't mean dumbass,' does it? His grin faded as she gave him The Stare again. Uh, sorry. Shuttin' up.  
  
He looked at the ground between them to avoid The Stare. The silence went on for several uncomfortable seconds. T'Pol seemed to be composing her reply carefully. A _t'hai'la_ is...a trusted friend, she stated finally.  
  
Trip blinked. She considered him a trusted friend! That _had_ to be a good thing! He beamed at her, glowing with the gift she had given him.  
  
he hemmed, not knowing exactly how to respond. I...thanks! I'm honored! I consider you a...a _thel'a_, too.  
  
His return compliment did not go over as well as he had hoped. T'Pol frowned at his words. she stated ominously.  
  
  
  
  
  
Isn't that what I said? Trip asked, flustered.  
  
T'Pol's facial expression never changed, but Trip knew a scowl even when he couldn't see it. You distinctly said   
  
I take it that's not the same thing?  
  
Now T'Pol's invisible expression suggested distaste. _T'hai'la_ means good friend.' _Thel'a_ means...fat.  
  
_Uh-oh_, Trip thought for the second time in less than five minutes. Um, maybe I should go now, he stammered.  
  
T'Pol gave him the Raised Eyebrow of Death. Yes, I believe that would be best. She paused. You have a great deal to practice. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Miscommunication**

A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute   
  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.  
  
**Chapter 2**  
  
Hoshi Sato glanced about Engineering as she walked past the warp core to the Chief Engineer's office. She didn't get down here much, so the setting always seemed a bit exotic.  
  
_I wonder what the Commander wants_, she thought. His communiqué had simply requested her presence and her silence. Maybe he needed a code decrypted? But in that case, why hadn't the orders come from the captain? Actually, now that she thought about it, had his message really been an order? Or was it a personal request?  
  
All speculation ceased as she rounded the corner and came upon Commander Tucker outlining some engineering task for two crewmen. She waited patiently for him to finish. Once he sent the crewmen on their way, he came straight to her.  
  
Hoshi! Great! Let's go! He led the way to his office and shut the doors behind them once they had entered. When he faced her, however, his purposeful manner disappeared. Um, have a seat, Lieutenant. Would you like something to drink? He waved vaguely at a pitcher that probably contained coffee. When Hoshi shook her head no, he then waved at a half-eaten ham sandwich. Some food? Again Hoshi shook her head no, perplexed by his behavior. What was going on?  
  
Sir, you said you needed my expertise? she finally queried. He nodded, running his hand through his hair. When he made no other response, Hoshi persisted. Is it an Engineering matter? Or Communications?  
  
Finally, he met her eyes. No, it's...well, it's kinda personal. When Hoshi remained silent, he went on. I...um...I need language lessons. You're the expert, so I was hopin'... he trailed off, looking at her apprehensively.  
  
Hoshi was a bit shocked, but she tried to hide it. Well, of course I could help you with that, sir, she responded. I've done a lot of teaching. What language did you want to learn?  
  
I'm okay at memorizing the words and stuff, Trip went on as though she had not spoken. It's just that my pronunciation really stinks. He began to pace the office. And like I said, it's pretty personal. I wouldn't want anyone to know about it... He trailed off again.  
  
You can rely on my discretion, Commander, she assured him in her most professional voice—Hoshi Sato, Communications Officer. What on earth could be so personal about learning another language?  
  
You promise? The engineer pounced on her statement. You swear you won't tell anyone?  
  
His earnest plea catapulted Hoshi back to her childhood. _Should I say, Cross my heart and hope to die?'_ she wondered. _Or maybe just offer to pinkie swear. That was always good enough for the other kids on the block._  
  
she began, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice. Lieutenant Reed considers me a very low security risk. I would think that would be enough for you, as well. He continued to pace and glance at her with apprehension. She sighed, giving in to his paranoia. Okay! I promise, I won't tell anyone. He stopped pacing and looked at her hopefully. Now, what language do you need to learn?  
  
Trip clasped his hands together and looked nervous again. _Okay, this is getting ridiculous,_ Hoshi thought. she prodded.  
  
he blurted so fast that Hoshi could only blink at the incomprehensible statement.  
  
  
  
Commander Tucker repeated himself, but did not reduce the velocity of his delivery.   
  
His second utterance was no more intelligible than the first, but Hoshi's trained ear caught the significant word.  
  
she asked incredulously. You want me to teach you to speak Vulcan?  
  
Commander Tucker looked at her for a brief moment, then dropped his eyes to the floor and nodded. Hoshi noticed that his ears were flaming red.  
  
_Ooooooooooooh!_ she thought, suddenly enlightened. _Yes, this certainly _is_ a personal request!_  
  
Too bad he'd sworn her to secrecy. She would have loved to crow to Travis about how the ship's grapevine had been right on the money!  
  
##########  
  
Once Hoshi had managed to get her superior officer past his initial embarrassment, she convinced him that they should discuss their language attack strategy over a snack. Luckily for the commander's paranoia, the mess hall was nearly empty for their discussion.  
  
Commander Tucker was happy to explain that he thought it would be a sign of respect to a fellow officer if he took the time to learn her language. Hoshi's eyes ached with the effort to keep from rolling them. She must not have been very successful, because the commander apparently felt the need to defend his position.  
  
It's just that she called me her friend—in Vulcan. I was real flattered, but when I tried to call her friend' back—in Vulcan—I ended up calling her   
  
Hoshi sought clarification. You called her _thelik_' or   
  
Tucker nodded miserably. The second one, I think. I'm not the swiftest guy in the world, but even _I_ know that you _never_ call a woman fat. Even if she's as big as the starboard nacelle!  
  
The engineer seemed truly distraught at the idea of having insulted Sub-Commander T'Pol. Since she's a Vulcan, she would never say so, but I think she was pretty pissed off.  
  
Hoshi ran though all the potential vocabulary that could have caused this misunderstanding. There seemed to be only one possibility, but she wanted to make sure. Okay. So Sub-Commander T'Pol called you... Hoshi eyed him in the hopes of clarification.  
  
Thy...they...something that started with th,' anyway! Commander Tucker was unwilling to even attempt the offending word.  
  
Hoshi ventured.  
  
The engineer's eyes lit up. That's the one! She said it means good friend.'  
  
Hoshi eyed him speculatively. _That's not _all_ it means_, she thought. Yep, the ship's grapevine definitely had those two pegged. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Miscommunication  
  
by Ragua  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.  
  
A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute   
****  
  
Chapter 3**  
  
Trip sat in his quarters in the cross-legged _Tal t'li_ pose with the PADD on the floor next to a meditation candle that T'Pol had lent him for his He was not, however, practicing his meditation.  
  
The sehlat is black, Hoshi's Vulcan language program informed him.  
  
_Sehlat nesh-kur_, Trip responded obediently along with the computer's voice.  
  
The le-matya is white, the program continued.  
  
_Le-matya wan-kur_, Trip echoed.   
  
The engineer had only been working on his language lessons for a few days, but he was already becoming discouraged. So far, all he had learned was that the sehlat was black and small, and the le-matya was white and big. Both were apparently animals that lived somewhere on Vulcan, but that was all he knew. According to Hoshi, one animal was a cuddly pet and the other was a vicious Vulcan-eater, but which was which mattered a great deal less than his ability to pronounce their names correctly.  
  
The linguist's priorities made no sense to Trip. He certainly thought it was a lot more important to know which animal was likely to eat you than how to say its name right _before_ it ate you.  
  
The engineer tried to return his attention to the lesson. T'Luki and Sonok are working, the computer voice droned on.  
  
_T'Luki heh Sonok fi' ar' kadan_.  
  
T'Luki and Sonok are working in the field today.  
  
_Nash-gad T'Luki heh Sonok fi' ar' kadan svi' solai_.  
  
Even worse than the sehlat and his le-matya buddy were T'Luki and Sonok. Those two did nothing but work, work in the field, work very hard. Sometimes they were cold and wet, other times warm and dry, but the program never explained how they got that way.  
  
Trip envisioned the boring Vulcan couple falling into a raging river and then recuperating by a cozy campfire. _That probably wasn't what happened, though,_ he thought sourly. No doubt they got wet because they worked—worked hard, worked in the field—during a rainstorm. Then went home for plomik soup where they were warm and dry.  
  
Trip made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and slapped out the flickering candle with the palm of his hand. T'Luki and Sonok were a couple of morons. If he had a phaser, he would stun them both. And the sehlat. And the le-matya. He didn't give a damn which one was cuddly and which one was vicious.  
  
The thought of blasting away with a phaser gave Trip an idea. He switched the language program off and called up the Vulcan-Standard dictionary. He had the rudiments of the sentence structure down. All he needed were some _real_ words.  
  
Phaser. _Wek-zehlek_. Shoot. _Pohshau_. Ha! Trip smiled to himself.   
  
_Pohshau nash-veh wek-zehlek na' T'Luki heh Sonok_.   
  
_Much better!_ Trip thought cheerily. Then he frowned. It probably wasn't a good idea to go around phasering Vulcans, no matter how irritating and imaginary they happened to be. Maybe he should just shoot the sehlat. Or the le-matya. Trip's frown deepened. No, he'd feel guilty if he shot the cuddly one by mistake.  
  
Trip sighed. _Better leave the shooting to Malcolm_, he thought. _I'm an engineer, not a gunfighter_.  
  
This, however, gave him another idea. He searched the dictionary again. There it was!  
  
_Nash-veh mishek,_ Trip said to himself with a touch of pride. _I am an engineer!_  
  
##########  
  
Hoshi sat over a cup of green tea in the mess hall and rubbed her temples. These language lessons with Commander Tucker were going to drive her insane.  
  
She knew she should be more patient. It had only been a week. Things couldn't be as bad as they looked right now. But... Hoshi sighed. In all her years of teaching, she couldn't remember _ever_ having a student so inept! Or at least, none that stuck with it once they realized it was a lost cause. Commander Tucker was completely aware that he was hopeless, and yet he kept at it with a tenacity that both impressed and annoyed her.  
  
_I should have realized it from the beginning,_ she thought. T'hai'la_ and _thel'a_ sound _nothing_ alike! He couldn't even distinguish the difference between the glottal stop at the beginning of the first word from the th' sound at the beginning of the second!_  
  
Hard day, Ensign? a familiar voice asked. When Hoshi looked up, startled, the voice's owner misinterpreted her reaction. I'm sorry, Hoshi—Lieutenant! Malcolm Reed, a cup of tea in his hand, smiled in apology. Hoshi smiled back and motioned him to sit.  
  
I've just gotten started on a new project, Hoshi answered. It looks like it's going to be pretty tough, so I was just sitting here giving myself a pep talk. Hopefully that would be specific enough to satisfy him and vague enough to keep him in the dark.  
  
Malcolm eyed her over the rim of his mug as he took a sip. Is that the project you're working on with Commander Tucker? he asked innocently.  
  
Hoshi sat dumbstruck. She should have realized that very little occurred on the ship that the sneaky, suspicious Armory Officer wasn't aware of. How much did he know? Should she go along with him, or feign ignorance? she queried, trying to buy some time.  
  
Well, you've been spending quite a bit of time in Engineering lately, Reed responded. He shifted his weight in his chair. _Was he uncomfortable about something?_ Hoshi wondered. And I'd noticed that the two of you have taken quite a few meals together here in the mess hall. He raised his eyes to hers as he took another sip of tea.  
  
Hoshi stared at him. He seemed almost embarrassed. _Oh my God!_ she realized suddenly. _Does he think...?!?!  
_  
What are you implying, Lieutenant? she snapped. Malcolm looked as if he couldn't decide whether to feel guilty or defensive.  
  
It's just that the two of you are spending a lot of time together. When you talked about the new...project...I just naturally assumed that it had something to do with Commander Tucker.  
  
For the staid Armory Officer, this waffling response was the equivalent of screaming out loud that he suspected his fellow bridge officers were carrying on a torrid affair. Hoshi was aghast at his unwarranted assumption. There were so many things she would have liked to say to him, first and foremost, Mind your own damned business! followed quickly by, Get your mind out of the gutter, you smarmy British perv!  
  
If she were completely honest with herself, what she would have liked to say most was, Why should you have a problem if other people on board think I'm worth violating that non-fraternization rule for, you gutless wonder?  
  
Facial expressions must have accompanied all her potential responses as she considered them, because Lieutenant Reed was looking slightly alarmed when she refocused on him. She narrowed her eyes and exhaled slowly through her nose. Malcolm looked as if he expected steam to accompany the exhalation.  
  
Well, you know what they say about people who assume things, Lieutenant, Hoshi finally answered. It was a cliché, but at least it wouldn't get her busted for insubordination. She picked up her mug and stalked off.  
  
##########  
  
Trip was actually enjoying his meditation session with T'Pol, although it couldn't be said that he was actually meditating. His practice sessions had helped him learn to sit in the correct pose without losing sensation in his lower extremities. His Vulcan lessons gave him something to occupy his mind while he spent the time watching his _t'hai'la_ do her thing. There certainly were worse ways to spend an evening!  
  
_T'hai'la,_ he enunciated the word carefully to himself, pronouncing it as Hoshi had taught him. _Tuh-high-lah! _ There really wasn't a th' sound to it, unless you said it really fast. No wonder T'Pol got mad at him for screwing it up so badly.  
  
He took the opportunity to gaze her from under his eyelashes, admiring her in Vulcan. Or at least, what little Vulcan he knew.  
  
Her _bezhun_ were closed, but he considered them the most beautiful he had ever seen—even when she was giving him The Stare. That he appreciated her _bru_, particularly the lower one, went without saying. Her delightful little pointed _kaluk_ had always fascinated him. And while he didn't agree with Malcolm on much, the guy certainly had a point about her nice _pla'kruslar_. Not to mention her really fine pair of—_  
_  
Commander, why do you find it necessary to stare at me? T'Pol's severe voice brought him back to reality.  
  
Caught in the act, Trip panicked. How did she _do_ that? _Think fast, Tucker. _Unfortunately, Trip couldn't think of a thing to say that wouldn't make the situation worse. Even the truth.  
  
A human woman would be flattered if he told her he had been distracted by her beauty, but T'Pol? Not a chance. No matter how eloquently or romantically he might state his case, T'Pol would hear his excuses as, My undisciplined human mind can't focus on the meditation because I'm gettin' all hot and bothered checkin' out your bod.  
  
Which was pretty much true. Trip sighed in frustration.  
  
I believe that I have been precipitous in inviting you to join me in meditation, T'Pol finally filled the silence. You are obviously not ready for Vulcan discipline.  
  
Trip shook his head, unwilling to admit defeat. I just need more practice. I can do this, T'Pol. He looked her squarely in the eye. I _want_ to get this right, cause it's important to you!  
  
It has been more than a week, and you have yet to get it right,' T'Pol responded stonily. What is the likelihood that you will ever do so?  
  
Trip opened his mouth to protest the injustice of her harsh response, but as he frantically searched his brain trying to figure out the right thing to say, T'Pol took advantage of his silence.  
  
Have you actually _been_ practicing? the Vulcan accused.  
  
Trip affirmed stoutly, despite being somewhat off balance from her unexpectedly aggressive reaction. Every night before I go to sleep. That wasn't a lie. He practiced his Vulcan every night.  
  
T'Pol, however, seemed to have a sixth sense where he was concerned. She eyed him coldly, skepticism evident in her face. It wasn't The Stare. It was something worse. Trip felt something akin to fear. You practice _meditating_ every night? she asked in a deadly voice.  
  
Trip opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. There was no right answer to this question. She had trapped him. T'Pol narrowed her eyes at his failure to respond. Abruptly, she got to her feet, blew out all the candles, and began to put away the meditation cushions.  
  
Vulcan meditation takes a great deal of time, discipline, and commitment, she stated as she tidied up her quarters. It is apparent that you are deficient in these qualities.  
  
Trip protested, but she went on as if he was not there.  
  
Perhaps it is self-control you lack, she continued, looking at him with distaste. Perhaps the hours you have been spending with Lieutenant Sato limit the time and the commitment you can dedicate to your T'Pol continued to eye him coldly. Whatever the reason, I most certainly have erred in asking you to join in my cultural traditions. Suddenly, she looked sad. I have been foolish.  
  
Trip was blindsided by her words. He felt as if she had clocked him with one of her little Vulcan statuettes. Suddenly, the full import of what she had said hit him, and he leapt to his feet.  
  
You...you think...me and Hoshi, he was inarticulate with rage and indignation. You think we're...messin' around? When T'Pol did not answer, he asked again, enunciating slowly and carefully in a manner that would have impressed the Communications Officer. You think I'm having an affair with Hoshi?  
  
T'Pol covered her feelings with a cloak of indifference and Vulcan stoicism. What I think about your interactions with your crewmates is irrelevant. As first officer, however, I would advise you to be more discreet, given Starfleet regulations.  
  
Trip was having none of it. Don't give me that non-fraternization crap, T'Pol. You think I'm messing around on you. Do you really think I would do something like that to you? To us? Do you really believe—  
  
T'Pol interrupted him. Trip pulled up short, and they glared at each other for no more than a heartbeat. Then T'Pol pulled the rug out from under him. There _is_ no   
  
Trip gasped in disbelief. Rage, indignation, denial, anguish, despair. He didn't know which emotion to feel first. But it really didn't matter, because T'Pol turned her back on him.  
  
It would be best if you left now.  
  
Stunned and hurt, Trip did as she asked.


	4. Chapter 4

**Miscommunication  
  
by Ragua  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.  
  
A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute   
****  
  
**  
  
**Chapter 4**  
  
_Enterprise's_ Chief Engineer sat in the mess hall the next morning, picking over his cooling breakfast, replaying the previous night's scene in his head for the hundredth time. How could she think he would do such a thing? Trip shook his head. After all they had been through together, he thought she knew him better than that—that she would think more highly of him!  
  
You look like you could use some company, Commander. Malcolm appeared at his side, holding a tray of his usual breakfast, the disgusting pancakes and peanut butter combination.  
  
Trip nodded morosely. The two sat in silence for some time. Reed was a bit surprised. The engineer was usually the most gregarious of individuals.  
  
Problems, Commander? Malcolm queried. Trip looked up from his scrambled eggs, frowning. It might help to talk about it, Reed encouraged.  
  
The engineer sighed and then let loose. T'Pol thinks I'm messin' around with Hoshi!  
  
Malcolm took a bite of his pancakes and chewed slowly, trying to compose a diplomatic response. In his opinion, T'Pol's suspicions were warranted, but his friend was obviously upset about the situation. His prolonged silence, however, seemed to be all the response Trip needed. The engineer glowered at him.  
  
_You_ think I'm messin' around with Hoshi! he accused, incredulous.  
  
The two of you _are_ spending an inordinate amount of time together, both on and off duty, Malcolm responded, keeping his tone neutral and his eyes on his breakfast. The Sub-Commander's assumption is a logical one. He banished from his mind Hoshi's comment about people who make assumptions.  
  
Trip gaped at the Armory Officer as if the man had grown an extra head. We're working on a project together! he snapped.  
  
Now Malcolm raised his eyebrows at Trip. What project? When the engineer remained silent, Malcolm nodded knowingly and went back to his pancakes. A project that requires you to spend a great deal of time together and for which you won't provide any details. He shook his head, wondering for the umpteenth time why the engineer was so reticent about providing details of his conquests.  
  
We're just friends! Trip snarled, sounding both angry and desperate.  
  
Malcolm looked the engineer in the face again. You once told me that you and T'Pol were just friends.' If that's the case, why should it bother you that she thinks you are having an affair with Hoshi?  
  
Trip let out an exasperated breath. And like I said before, you just need to drop it! Why the hell can't you mind your own damned business? He stabbed at the sausages on his plate, piercing them full of holes.  
  
Malcolm said in as conciliatory a manner as possible. You're obviously bothered about the whole situation. It certainly would help to talk about it. When Trip maintained his stubborn silence, Malcolm tried again. You know I won't judge you.  
  
At this, the engineer narrowed his eyes. Seems to me like you already have, Lieutenant.  
  
Well, look at it from my perspective, Malcolm cajoled. I don't understand why you won't talk to me about what's going on. We're friends, after all.  
  
Are we? Trip asked quietly, his voice cold.  
  
Malcolm was taken aback by the venom of the response. Perhaps he had gone a bit too far. He sought to do some damage control. he said soothingly. You needn't—  
  
Don't tell me what I need, you suspicious, dirty-minded little bastard! Trip hissed. The viciousness of the words stunned Reed as if he had been phasered. I think you need to take a good look at your friends, the engineer continued in an icy voice. I mean, why the hell would you be friends with a guy that you obviously think of as an untrustworthy, disloyal, lying, cheating—  
  
Malcolm protested, cutting the tirade off. He had never seen his friend so angry. The engineer's face white—completely bloodless—and yet the veins in his neck were pulsing furiously. His eyes glittered with carefully controlled emotions, which disturbed Reed more than he could say. Trip normally vented his feelings in loud, volatile explosions. The iciness suggested a fury far beyond the norm.  
  
Malcolm was still trying to think of an appropriate comment when his friend got abruptly to his feet and walked away. Malcolm called after him. The engineer did not respond. He bussed his dishes and left the mess hall without once looking back.  
  
##########  
  
Hoshi Sato was at a loss. Lieutenant Reed's inquiries of the previous week should have warned her some potential fiasco was in the making. If not that, then the fact that she was suddenly out of the ship's gossip loop. The only reason people got left out of the gossip loop was because they themselves had become the gossip.  
  
The final straw—or nail in the coffin depending on how one decided to look at it—was Commander Tucker's brusque communiqué declaring that he would be unable to continue their language sessions, although he still wished to learn Vulcan. To that end, he respectfully requested that she send lessons via the ship's internal communications.  
  
_Like that's going to do anything for his godawful pronunciation,_ Hoshi thought, dejected.  
  
The uncharacteristic reserve and formality from the normally easy-going Chief Engineer was almost more than Hoshi could bear. She realized that their lessons—and the ship's gossip—must have led to some kind of falling out between him and Sub-Commander T'Pol. Staff briefings were mechanical and chilly. Hoshi suspected that something had also occurred between the commander and Lieutenant Reed as well, because all communication between those two had been unnaturally brisk and clipped lately.  
  
Hoshi didn't know what to do or who to turn to. She could easily solve the problem by making the truth known, but that would mean breaking her promise to Commander Tucker. It seemed an infantile consideration at this point, but she didn't feel right exposing him that way. If he wanted others to know the truth, he could easily have told them himself.  
  
She would have to speak to him.  
  
##########  
  
T'Pol sat alone in her quarters attempting to meditate. It had become very difficult to focus since severing personal contact with Commander Tucker. The emotions engendered by their confrontation continued to haunt her. In fact, it seemed as if they were increasing rather than dissipating, as she had hoped.  
  
His interaction with Lieutenant Sato had all but ceased. Either that, or he had followed her advice and was exercising discretion. Whichever the case, T'Pol no longer saw them laughing together in the mess hall, nor did she encounter the Communications Officer in Engineering when necessity required the Science Officer to be there. At staff briefings, the commander spoke minimally, if at all, and left as soon as the captain dismissed them.  
  
Perhaps she had been wrong in her deductions. But if that were the case, why had she sensed that he was keeping something from her? Why did it seem that he was sharing a secret with the Communications Officer?  
  
Yet he had seemed so genuine in his surprise when she accused him of spending too much time with Hoshi. He had seemed indignant, not ashamed, as she believed he would have been, had he truly been engaged in some kind of...relationship with the Communications Officer.  
  
_This is the problem with emotions,_ the Vulcan thought. _My feelings for Commander Tucker lead me to ignore logic._ Simply put, she wanted to believe him innocent because of her...affection for him, however much logic suggested otherwise.  
  
Humans, particularly males, were a sexually active species. Despite their one night together, T'Pol had done nothing to encourage Commander Tucker in that way. Humans considered sexual relations intimate, but T'Pol had wanted to establish an intimacy between herself and the commander that was more...Vulcan.  
  
It was logical to assume that the engineer, seeing little or no possibility of physical relations with T'Pol, had sought to satisfy his needs elsewhere. A human female, particularly one within such close proximity, was the obvious solution to his problem. _Although,_ T'Pol thought, _in the three years that I have known him, Commander Tucker has never been reluctant about engaging in sexual relations with alien females. _The commander's various escapades with alien women provided more evidence to support the logical conclusion.  
  
Logic, however, did nothing to salve the pain that his betrayal had caused her. It was her own fault for becoming emotionally attached to a human. For believing that he could be to her what only a Vulcan male could. She had only herself to blame.  
  
She would not make the same mistake again.  
  
##########  
  
Malcolm Reed sat at the desk in his quarters going over the ship's security reports, but he was having a very difficult time focusing on the important details. His mind kept returning to his last real conversation with Commander Tucker.  
  
Since the engineer had sailed out of the mess hall, Reed's only interaction with the man had been on a purely professional level. And Trip had behaved so professionally that he seemed almost robotic. Malcolm never thought to see his friend—an amiable, good-natured soul if ever there was one—become a veritable automaton. It was almost if he was trying to out-Vulcan T'Pol.  
  
_Could I have completely misinterpreted what was going on between Trip and Hoshi?_ the Armory Officer thought guiltily. He shook his head, baffled. If that was the case, why hadn't either Trip or Hoshi simply told him the reason they were spending so much time together?  
  
Neither of them were spending time together now, though. Trip rarely left Engineering. He didn't even come to the mess hall to eat. Malcolm shifted uneasily in his chair, uncomfortable at the idea that he had so misjudged his friend. Trip had expected Malcolm to listen to his problem, offer comfort, maybe suggest a solution. And what had Malcolm done? Pretty much said, _Yeah, love stinks, you randy bastard. Now tell me everything, and don't be stingy with the lurid details._  
  
Malcolm groaned an dropped his face into his hands. He'd better go try and salvage his friendship before it was too late.  
  
##########  
  
Trip stared intently at the flickering candle flame. He sat in the _Tal t'li _pose, but he certainly wasn't meditating. He just couldn't get over how little his friends apparently thought of him. Friends? He had never doubted that the people on _Enterprise_ were his friends, closer than any he had ever had, in fact.  
  
But now everything was different.  
  
He had always considered himself a pretty good person. His parents had raised him to work hard, to respect others, to do right, to be honest—basically, to be a nice, decent human being. At least, that's the way he saw it.  
  
Apparently, the people on the ship saw it differently. They saw some self-indulgent, hedonistic, flaky, good-time Charlie of dubious integrity, who couldn't keep his pecker in his pants.  
  
Trip sighed. It would be one thing if it was just ship's gossip. But the fact that _Malcolm_ bought it! The guy he'd faced death with several times over, not to mention those she-males on Risa. He couldn't believe how much it hurt that Malcolm obviously thought he was someone who would play around on one friend and put the reputation of another in jeopardy.  
  
And T'Pol. After all they'd been through together. After she had accused _him_ of being incapable of having a sexual relationship without becoming emotionally attached. After he'd stood by her through thick and thin, not to mention that Trellium-D insanity.  
  
Trip slammed his palm down on the candle, snuffing out its flame. He then kicked it across the room for good measure. Maybe if he could maintain his anger, he could continue to ignore the hurt.  
  
As he was trying to decide which inanimate object to abuse next, his door COMM chirped.  
  
##########  
  
Hoshi shifted her weight nervously as she waited for the commander to answer his door. She glanced up and down the hall, hoping no one would see her there and misinterpret her presence. Her attention shot back to the door as it slid open to reveal a harried-looking Chief Engineer.  
  
he hissed, looking up and down the corridor to see if they were being watched.  
  
she responded evenly. We need to talk. Can I come in? She started to move forward, but to her surprise, he blocked her.  
  
he yelped, alarmed. Instead, he stepped out into the hallway with her. We can talk out here, he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door jamb.  
  
Hoshi closed her eyes and counted to ten. She had to be patient with the man: he had far more on the line emotionally than she did. When she opened her eyes, he was watching her warily, as if she were a bomb that might explode.  
  
_Don't I wish,_ the Communications Officer thought sourly. The idea of detonating herself and sending people fleeing in all directions seemed extremely attractive at the moment.  
  
she snapped instead, you have _got_ to tell people the truth about us!  
  
I _have_ been! he replied testily. I've been telling em we're working on a project and that we're just friends.  
  
That's _not_ the truth I'm talking about, Hoshi all but yelled in frustration. I'm talking about the one that will convince everyone on board that we aren't knocking boots!  
  
Now he looked embarrassed. Yeah, I'm real sorry about that, Hoshi. I never meant to ruin your reputation. His hangdog expression and his absolutely archaic concern for her wrung an unwilling smile from her. She found herself thinking that T'Pol was one lucky Vulcan.  
  
All you have to do to fix that is let everyone know the real reason we were spending so much time together.  
  
His expression quickly went from chagrined to stone-faced.   
  
Why not? Hoshi demanded indignantly. I know that you're on the outs with T'Pol. And I know that you had some kind of confrontation with Malcolm over this whole thing. Why won't you just tell them the truth, and make it right?  
  
Because I shouldn't _have_ to tell them, Hoshi, he responded with quiet fury. They're supposed to be my friends. They're not supposed to expect me to be some kind of lyin' shitheel who goes around banging every woman he can just for the hell of it, regardless of how it affects other people.  
  
_He has a point,_ Hoshi thought. It really was cruel of Malcolm and T'Pol to assume the worst. But his refusal to defend himself was so juvenile! she tried again.  
  
No, Hoshi, he stated firmly. I'm not tellin' em anything. He narrowed his eyes at her. And neither are you!  
  
The Communications Officer gave him a rebellious look. _I take it all back,_ she thought, disgusted with his pigheadedness. _T'Pol, girlfriend, you can have him. You've got your work cut out for you._  
  
Seeing her mutinous expression, Trip continued, warningly, Hoshi...! You promised. Hoshi wavered, not quite convinced. Trip enunciated one final time, stabbing his index finger at her with each word. Don't. Say. Anything.  
  
Hoshi swallowed and then nodded her agreement, looking at the floor.  
  
##########  
  
All Malcolm's good intentions disappeared as he rounded the corridor and came upon Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Sato facing each other in the hallway outside Trip's quarters.  
  
he said aloud. Trip and Hoshi looked up at him and then elsewhere, in obvious embarrassment. Malcolm chided himself for having doubted his instincts, and yet, at the same time, he was profoundly disappointed at having been confirmed in his suspicions.  
  
Forgive me, he said in his most formal tone. I had no intention of interrupting. He had intended to say something else, but stopped upon seeing Commander Tucker's eyes blaze in fury. For a nanosecond, Reed thought the engineer was going to attack him. Then time flowed normally again. Trip's eyes shuttered, and he turned back into his quarters and shut the door without so much as a goodbye.  
  
Which left Malcolm standing alone in the corridor with Hoshi.  
  
he said again, for lack of a more intelligent comment. The Communications Officer gave him an almost reptilian look. Reed, determined to appear nonchalant about the entire business, nodded his head toward the closed door and inquired, Trouble in paradise, Lieutenant?  
  
Unlike Commander Tucker, the linguist gave no indication whatsoever that she was contemplating violence. Consequently, when her open palm smacked against his cheek, the unsuspecting Armory Officer was staggered by the force of the blow.  
  
By the time Malcolm regained his footing, Hoshi was gone.  
  
##########  
  
The next morning, _Enterprise's_ Chief Communications Officer sat in the mess hall worshipping her cup of coffee. Inhaling the warm fumes soothed her pounding skull, and the pleasant aroma calmed her roiling stomach.  
  
After her disgracefully schoolgirl reaction to Lieutenant Reed's snide comment the night before, she had retreated to her quarters to await the inevitable consequences of her actions.  
  
She had assaulted a superior officer. Her life as she knew it was over.  
  
Her imagination had run wild, wreaking havoc on her nerves. How bad would it be? A security detail? Definitely the brig. They might even march her through the ship in irons! Did they even make irons anymore? Maybe she had been watching too many of those swashbuckler movies.  
  
There would definitely be a court-martial. At the very least, she'd be dishonorably discharged from Starfleet. At the very worst...Hoshi's mind worked desperately, trying to recall the penalty for striking a superior officer. Had she ever even known the penalty? It wasn't something she would have thought to research, as she had never before been the type to resort to fisticuffs.  
  
Oh, but it had felt good smacking the self-righteous smirk off that pissy British face!  
  
At some point during her long wait for the other shoe to drop, she had turned to the bottle of saki her folks had given her when Enterprise left spacedock for its most recent tour. She woke early the following morning to a bottle that was nearly empty and a stomach that wished it was.  
  
_The one good thing about a hangover,_ Hoshi thought, _is that nothing else that happens today can make me feel any worse. _She pressed her face closer to the mug between her hands. Could she drown herself in such a small space? If only.  
  
Hey, Hoshi! a cheerful voice above her somewhere made her head scream. When she turned a baleful glare on Travis, he shrank back. Whoa. You look like crap!  
  
Thanks, Travis, she grunted. You sure know what a girl wants to hear.  
  
Travis sat down, eyeing her dubiously. Hoshi ignored him completely. Eventually, however, the silence became too much for the chipper young helmsman.  
  
You know, Hosh, he began, if things are that bad, it might help to talk about it.  
  
Hoshi raised her bloodshot eyes to his face as she contemplated his offer. There was no doubt that Travis was her friend and was sincere in his offer to help. But he was not above using their friendship to get inside information for the ship's gossip circuit. For all she knew, he had paid heavily into some pool about her personal life and was looking for tips that would help him make a killing.  
  
I know it's none of my business, Travis continued when the Communications Officer did not respond, but there's certainly nothing wrong with you and—  
  
Hoshi interrupted him. If you make a comment that links me romantically with any sentient being on this ship, I will throw this coffee in your face and beat you to death with the mug.  
  
Hoshi was pleased to note that her statement kept Travis quiet for the remainder of the meal.


	5. Chapter 5

**Miscommunication  
  
by Ragua**  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.  
  
A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute  
  
  
**Chapter 5**  
  
_Once upon a time,_ thought Jonathan Archer, _I would have had some idea what was going on aboard my own ship._ Since the Xindi mission, however, an invisible barrier had developed between captain and crew—even his senior officers. Up til now, this had not been much of a problem. His bridge crew kept track of the moods and morale on _Enterprise_, and they updated the captain as needed. Recently, however, the bridge crew had _become_ the problem.  
  
Archer knew he sometimes had the sensitivity of a brick in his dealings with others, but he would have to be completely clueless not to notice that there was something going on with his senior officers. Tension on the bridge and at staffings was so thick that you could cut it with the proverbial knife.  
  
Trip was most definitely involved in whatever was going on. Archer had known the man long enough to recognize that his friend's behavior lately was uncharacteristic. The normally chatty Chief Engineer had become a virtual hermit, speaking only when spoken to and then in monosyllables. He had also been making excuses to avoid dining in the Captain's Mess and had sequestered himself in Engineering for nearly a week.  
  
Archer had seen the engineer pout before, but never to this extent. His friend must be seriously hurt or angry about something, but the captain had been unable to find out the reason why. Any time Archer tried to get information from him, Trip either deflected his questions or clammed up.  
  
Most likely T'Pol was involved somehow. The captain had been dwelling on the interaction between his two most senior officers for some time. Trip was obviously smitten, but T'Pol was harder to read. Archer suspected some partiality on the Vulcan's part, though, because she did not seem averse to spending time with the engineer. Or at least, she had been willing to spend time with Trip up until a week ago. Now, they did not interact at all unless absolutely necessary.  
  
_They must have had a fight of some sort,_ Archer decided. Maybe it was for the best. The captain had been wondering what to do about the possible relationship between his First Officer and his Chief Engineer. Now, he might not have to deal with all the complications brought about by that damned non-fraternization rule. Still, he felt sorry for his friends. Heartbreak was never easy, particularly when you were essentially trapped in a metal box hurtling through space with the object of your affection.  
  
Archer frowned. A lovers' spat between Trip and T'Pol didn't explain the very strange behavior of Malcolm and Hoshi, though.  
  
_Well,_ Archer thought, _Malcolm's always been strange._ The captain wondered, as he often did, whether that was because Malcolm was British, a Security Officer, or just quirky by nature. Maybe it was a combination of the three.  
  
This morning, for example, the Armory Officer had showed up for duty with a vicious welt on his left cheek. When Archer suggested that Malcolm have Phlox look at it, the Armory Officer begged off. Better to keep the bruise, Malcolm had responded. It would serve as a reminder that he needed to be better prepared for an unexpected attack in the future.  
  
Archer shook his head now, as he had shaken his head that morning. How the hell did you prepare for the unexpected? You had to _expect_ something in order to prepare for it!! He would never understand Malcolm.  
  
Hoshi, however, he had thought he understood, but now he wondered. She had been surprisingly snarky lately. The sweet little Hoshi he knew seemed to have disappeared. And this morning, if the captain hadn't known her better, he would have said that she was hung over. But Hoshi didn't drink.  
  
Did she?  
  
The door COMM distracted the captain from pondering the vagaries of his senior staff. he called. To his relief, it was the person he had sent for.  
  
Travis, come on in, Archer encouraged his helmsman.  
  
Maybe now he would get some answers.  
  
##########  
  
Hoshi Sato lay face down on her bunk. How she had managed to make it through the day without killing herself or someone else she would never know. Even when she realized, as the day progressed, that Lieutenant Reed had decided not to make an issue of their altercation, she had not relaxed. If anything, the thought that she might owe the Armory Officer a favor for letting her off the hook made her even crankier.  
  
When she had snapped at the captain, she thought she had had it. Not only had Jonathan Archer been surprised, but Reed—and even T'Pol—had seemed shocked as well. After that, she had periodically caught Reed eyeballing her in trepidation for the remainder of their shift.  
  
_That's right,_ she thought vindictively, _no more mild-mannered Hoshi, you bastards. I'm a woman on the edge. Fear me!_  
  
Luckily for her, the captain had brushed off her unprofessional behavior. Hoshi decided she'd better get a decent night's sleep before she started organizing a full-fledged mutiny against all the superior officers who seemed determined to make her life a living hell.  
  
##########  
  
Trip sat at his desk wondering what to do about the situation of his erstwhile language tutor. He had ignored her message this morning, thinking that it would only be more nagging for him to come clean. Reading it now, however, he felt nothing but guilt.  
  
I assaulted Malcolm and now I'm going to be kicked out of Starfleet and thrown in jail and it's all your fault! the message wailed. Or at least, that's what he thought it said. The text was pretty incoherent, particularly for the usually articulate linguist.  
  
Geez, what had happened? He checked the log. The message had been sent sometime after midnight, but his conversation with the Communications Officer had ended around 9:30. Obviously Hoshi had sat up for quite a while worrying. Still, no one in Engineering had said anything today about the Communications Officer kicking the Armory Officer's ass—despite his concern, Trip grinned evilly at the mental image—nor had anyone mentioned an arrest or anything of the kind. It had been a fairly normal boring day.  
  
Trip checked the rest of his messages. There was another more recent missive from Hoshi. He opened it. Unlike her first message, this one was _very_ clear.  
  
No arrest. No court martial. No charges. No mention, even. But if you don't straighten this situation out, I'm going to do the same to you regardless of the consequences!  
  
The engineer sighed and shook his head. Hoshi sure was pissed off. But then, she had every right to be. She didn't deserve all this. He'd better set the record straight. A scowl creased his features. He'd talk to T'Pol tomorrow.  
  
In Vulcan.  
  
##########  
  
Jonathan Archer gazed at his helmsman, appalled, but doing his best to hide it.  
  
Let me get this straight, Travis. The fact of the matter is—  
  
Oooh, sir! Mayweather interrupted, holding up his hands as if to stop his runaway captain. I never said anything about facts! You asked what I knew, and I said I could only tell you what I heard through the ship's grapevine!  
  
_He's like a lawyer issuing an official disclaimer,_ Archer thought wearily.  
  
Okay, then, according to _sources_, the captain restated melodramatically, making air quotations with his fingers, there is or was some sort of relationship between the First Officer and the Chief Engineer.  
  
Travis confirmed. It's pretty obvious. I figured even you noticed that, Captain.  
  
I did, Archer concurred, hiding a smile at the unintentional insult. These same sources, he went on, noticed that suddenly said Chief Engineer began spending a great deal of time with the Communications Officer. A...relationship was assumed to be taking place there as well?  
  
Yes, sir, Travis confirmed. Although I don't see it myself, the ensign frowned. It seems out of character. For both of them. Then he shrugged. But stranger things have happened.  
  
Agreed. Now, the sources assume that a confrontation of some sort took place between two or three of those involved in this...situation, Archer continued, leading to the current state of...unrest present among the senior officers.  
  
Travis nodded agreement with his captain's conclusion.  
  
So where and how does Lieutenant Reed figure into all of this? Archer asked. Because unless my scanners are completely out of whack, he's involved somehow, as well.  
  
Travis agreed with this assessment. Don't know, Captain. But he _is_ pretty good friends with Hoshi, and he's Commander Tucker's best friend, too. Travis frowned. Or, at least, he was.  
  
_Kinda like me,_ Jonathan Archer thought sadly.  
  
Maybe they had words about the...situation as well? Travis presented his theory, unaware of the inner turmoil his innocent comment had caused his commanding officer.  
  
Archer agreed.  
  
The two sat in silence for a few moments, Archer pensive, Mayweather nervous. Um, sir, Travis ventured finally. When his captain looked up from his thoughts, the helmsman continued. You aren't going to tell anyone where you got this information, are you? I feel kinda like a paid snitch. He grinned uneasily, hoping his captain would not take offense.  
  
Archer smiled. Don't worry, Travis. I protect my sources.  
  
The statement didn't comfort Travis. It sounded like this might be an ongoing assignment! Sir? Will we be doing this, he gestured back and forth between them, again? Cause it's kinda...wrong.  
  
The captain sighed. I agree, Ensign. But how else am I supposed to keep up with what's going on between people on my ship? As captain, I'm not exactly in the gossip loop! Travis had no answer to that, so Archer continued. My only alternative is lurking around, hiding in corners, and eavesdropping. Archer paused, enjoying the shocked look on the helmsman's face. That's not just wrong, it's undignified, Archer stated sanctimoniously. Then he grinned. And kinda pathetic, too.  
  
Travis returned the grin.  
  
If it makes you feel any better, Travis, Archer went on, consider it intelligence work. Travis looked thoughtful for a moment. That kind of thing looks great on your record!  
  
At this, a look of horror crossed Mayweather's face. Uh, sir, with all due respect, I think this...assignment isn't something I'd want on my record!  
  
Archer sighed. Either he was terrible at making jokes, or the kid had no sense of humor whatsoever. Understood, Ensign.  
  
##########  
  
Malcolm Reed sat alone in his darkened quarters, sipping his whiskey morosely. He pressed the glass to his sore cheek Hoshi packed a lot of power in that tiny frame. In spite of being on the receiving end of her fist, he was impressed. And more than a little turned on. What other martial talents could she be hiding?  
  
But of course, she wanted Trip. So did T'Pol. They all wanted Trip. What was it about that bloody bastard? And why couldn't he be satisfied with one woman? The Xyrillian engineer, that Kriosian princess, Corporal Cole, even T'Pol of the beautiful bum, for God's sake! And now Hoshi. Why did he have to have them all? Why couldn't he just choose one and stay with her?  
  
No wonder his future self had died a bitter old bachelor on that other _Enterprise_ in the Expanse. All the women were pining for the ruddy Chief Engineer.  
  
His best friend.  
  
_Well, _Malcolm thought despondently. _Not so much any more._  
  
He downed his glass and sighed.  
  
##########  
  
T'Pol sat staring at the candle, once again unsuccessful in her attempts at meditation. She simply could not center herself. The doubt that crept up on her in the last few days would not allow it.  
  
She gave up attempting to focus on the candle flame and gazed about her quarters. They seemed so empty without his presence. It had been comforting to have him there. Her mind went back to the first time she had ever invited him into her living area.  
  
She had needed advice, and he was the only one aware of the details of her situation, and therefore the logical choice. T'Pol frowned, remembering her irritation upon learning that the human had read one of her private messages. Her frown deepened, recalling exactly _how_ she had learned of the transgression.  
  
He had come to her and admitted it.  
  
T'Pol remembered how—despite her anger at the invasion of her privacy—she had been impressed with his integrity and the straightforward manner in which he accepted responsibility for his actions. He was not a man who engaged in dishonesty or subterfuge.  
  
Had she been unjust in her treatment of Commander Tucker?  
  
Regardless of their differences, she finally admitted to herself, they must discuss their situation. It was beginning to affect the crew. Lieutenant Reed was behaving more oddly than was usual, and if her emotional outbursts on the bridge today were any indication, Lieutenant Sato was obviously under some kind of stress as well.  
  
_Yes,_ thought T'Pol. _Tomorrow I will approach Mr. Tucker so that we may resolve our differences._  
  
##########  
  
As soon as his young helmsman left, the captain abandoned any and all semblance of professionalism. He dropped his head in his hands and groaned. _This_ was why Starfleet had a non-fraternization rule!  
  
Not that it made a bit of difference. This entire fiasco had taken place in spite of the rule. A lot of good the damned thing did!  
  
There was no doubt in Archer's mind that the rumors of an affair between Hoshi and Trip were false. Trip had always been annoyingly innocent in his relationships. He certainly conducted himself with some very old-fashioned notions with respect to male-female interaction. It never would have crossed the engineer's mind to cheat on a woman or play one side against another. Nor, in his naiveté, would it occur to Trip that certain actions could be construed as such.  
  
Trip just did not get seriously involved with a woman unless he was in love. His friend didn't have it in him to be...seeing...two women at once. And he _was_ in love with T'Pol. Of that Archer had no doubt. Did T'Pol love Trip? Maybe.  
  
The captain sighed. Not surprisingly, Trip had screwed it up somehow, and poor Hoshi had gotten stuck in the middle. Archer felt like he had time-traveled back to adolescence.  
  
_Maybe I should just slip T'Pol a PADD with a note on it, like we used to do in Study Hall,_ he thought. _Trip likes you. Do you like him? Check one—yes' or _  
  
And how the hell had Malcolm got thrown into the mix? He had to be involved. That bruise on his face had definitely come from someone's hand. Archer suspected Trip, but he knew Malcolm would feel honorbound to keep the details to himself. But just what _were_ the details? Was Malcolm jealous? And if so, over whom?  
  
T'Pol? Hoshi? _Trip_?!?!  
  
I'm not the captain of a Starship, Archer groaned out loud. I'm the principal of a middle school!  
  
Then the COMM beeped, summoning the captain to the bridge. Archer never thought he would be so happy to face an interstellar emergency.  
**  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Miscommunication  
  
by Ragua**  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.  
  
A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute  
  
**  
  
Chapter 6  
**  
Lieutenant Sato is correct, Captain, his first officer stated. The distress signal is Vulcan. She hesitated. And yet, it is a frequency consistent with that of a handheld or portable beacon—one used by landing parties, not space-going vessels.  
  
Archer frowned. Any other ships nearby? he asked.  
  
T'Pol replied, after taking a moment to scan.  
  
Mr. Reed, your assessment?  
  
The Armory Officer was caught off guard. Normally, the captain just plunged headlong into situations like this, completely ignoring any and all security risks. Perhaps the Xindi crisis had taught him the value of caution!  
  
The discrepancy of the distress frequency suggests the possibility that it is a trap of some sort, Captain, Reed replied, hoping he sounded rational instead of paranoid.  
  
The captain nodded. Agreed. But we can't very well ignore a distress signal from an ally.  
  
Then I would advise running continuous scans as we move to intercept, Reed stated. And, of course, we should go to tactical alert, he couldn't help add.  
  
Archer took only a moment to decide. Do it.  
  
##########  
  
The continuous scans advocated by Lieutenant Reed paid off, but not in a way expected by any of the officers on the bridge.  
  
Hoshi was the first to call Archer's attention to the odd situation. I've finally managed to pinpoint the distress signal. But it's not coming from a ship! The Communications Officer stared at her monitor as if she could not believe what it was telling her.  
  
T'Pol busily tinkered with her own monitors at the Science Officer's station and then looked up at Archer, appearing as disconcerted as a Vulcan could. It would appear, Captain, that the distress signal is emanating from a photon torpedo casing.  
  
Archer, dumbfounded, turned to Reed for a third opinion. The Armory Officer checked his own readings and then turned back to his captain, nodding, a shocked look on his face.  
  
T'Pol went on. Scans of the torpedo casing indicate a biosign present.  
  
  
  
There was a pause as T'Pol rechecked her data. she responded.  
  
Archer felt all their eyes on him as he returned to his seat. Archer to Engineering, he COMMed.  
  
Tucker here, the response was immediate.  
  
We need to pick up the pace, Commander. Is Warp 5 an option right now?  
  
Sure, Captain, but I wouldn't advise keeping the hammer down for too long.  
  
Archer replied, signing off. Then he looked at his helmsman.  
  
Let's get going, Travis.  
  
##########  
  
Archer moved briskly through the ship, followed by his Science, Armory, and Communications Officers. Phlox and Trip stood waiting for them outside the docking bay, where Malcolm had used the grappler to secure the photon torpedo tube with its mystery occupant.  
  
The engineer knelt by the tube, deftly working to open it. A click and a hiss announced his success. Archer moved forward to assist in the removal of the lid, while Reed positioned himself at the ready with his phaser. T'Pol, Hoshi, and Phlox shared a look at the Armory Officer's behavior, then stepped back in unison.  
  
The removal of the torpedo casing lid revealed a gray-haired male Vulcan laying as if in a casket, hands folded on his chest. Without any prompting, Phlox stepped forward and scanned the body with his tricorder. Almost immediately, he began to make little noises that most of the crew associated with his quirky Denobulan curiosity.  
  
Well, well, well, he muttered to himself, completely oblivious to the five pairs of eyes watching him expectantly.  
  
Finally, the captain lost his patience.   
  
Archer's voice brought the Denobulan out of his reverie. Our mystery guest is alive, Captain, Phlox cheerily announced. However, he seems to be in some sort of self-induced coma or trance. All his bodily functions have slowed down to a fraction of their norm! The doctor was most impressed.  
  
Archer glanced at T'Pol for more details. She nodded with Phlox's assessment. There is a very complex mental discipline—the _Kan-sorn_—that would explain such readings. It takes many years to master. T'Pol paused. Vulcans who travel in space are encouraged to learn the discipline, as it can be an asset in situations where life support is compromised.  
  
So he could have been in this torpedo casing for a damned long time! Archer exclaimed. What should we do for him? Can we wake him up? _Should_ we?  
  
T'Pol considered. I believe that the practitioner has the ability to bring himself out of the trance, once his subconscious senses that conditions have improved.  
  
Then I had better get this man to sickbay as quickly as possibly, Phlox concluded.  
  
While the doctor supervised transferring the unconscious Vulcan to a stretcher for the journey to sickbay, Trip scanned the torpedo tube with his tricorder. The instant two crewman had lifted Phlox's patient out of his makeshift transport, the engineer placed his hands on Hoshi's shoulders, gently moving her aside, and then knelt to examine the tube more closely.  
  
For Trip, intrigued as he was by whatever technology lay hidden in the Vulcan torpedo tube, the action was completely unconscious. Archer, however, felt Malcolm stiffen beside him and saw T'Pol narrow her eyes slightly at the physical contact.  
  
_Shit!_ the captain hissed internally. Couldn't they get beyond this? For God's sake, they had just pulled an elderly Vulcan out of what was essentially a flying coffin!  
  
He attempted to get his officers' focus back on the task at hand. What have you got, Trip?  
  
The engineer's attention had never wavered from the torpedo tube. Several PADDs, probably with information about the situation that caused our friend to end up in here, Trip nodded at the torpedo tube. He immediately began to peruse the information on the PADDs. This one's mainly text. Maybe a log or narrative account. It's in Vulcan, so you'll need to translate it.  
  
Archer watched, stupefied, as the oblivious engineer handed the PADD not to _Enterprise's_ Vulcan First Officer, but to its human Communications Officer.  
  
_Oh, God,_ the captain groaned to himself. _Why don't we just set the ship to self-destruct _now_ and get it over with?_  
  
Hoshi took the PADD automatically, then, aghast, she cast a horrified look at T'Pol. The Vulcan dropped her eyes to the engineer crouched on the floor, her face frighteningly blank.  
  
_How the hell am I going to keep her from killing him?_ Archer wondered silently. He certainly wasn't going to get any help from Malcolm, who had drawn in a swift, shocked breath at Trip's action and then proceeded to become even more stiff, if that were possible. Archer suspected the Armory Officer was channeling one of those stone monoliths on Easter Island.  
  
Sublimely unaware of the _faux pas_ he had committed, the engineer continued sifting through his finds. This one looks like scientific data. Maybe readings from the sector where the guy's ship got into trouble... Archer watched Hoshi pick up one of her feet slowly, as if she were contemplating planting it in the engineer's backside.  
  
_Should I even try to stop her?_ the captain wondered. Trip's cluelessness, while not at all malicious, surely merited a good swift kick in the ass. Luckily, Hoshi curbed her temper. Trip, however, rambled blindly on.  
  
...And this one is definitely some kind of engineering schematic. I should be able to figure that out. Oh, and here's another one with lots of text. And another!  
  
The engineer rose to his feet cradling the PADDs to his chest. He had started to hand another PADD containing text to Hoshi when he realized that all his fellow officers were staring at him. Trip blinked, suddenly unsure and ill at ease.  
  
T'Pol removed the PADD from the engineer's hands. Perhaps I should take that, Commander. It is true that I have been serving with humans for more than three years, but I suspect that I can still successfully read documents in my native language.  
  
Trip responded lamely, finally realizing that he had screwed up.  
  
Badly.  
  
Um...I...sure, Sub-Commander, that goes without saying. I...uh... Trip turned his eyes to the captain, silently pleading for a rescue.  
  
Archer was tempted to slap his palm to his forehead. Instead, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and chanted to himself, _I am the captain, I am the captain, I am the captain._  
  
Then he was ready.  
  
Good thinking, Commander, he barked. T'Pol, you and Trip get these PADDs to the Command Center and start analyzing the information. Hoshi, I want you to help with the translations. The three mentioned looked at him with varying expressions of disgust, unease, and outright panic.  
  
Archer ignored them all and turned to Reed. Lieutenant, I want you to make a thorough analysis of the torpedo tube. There isn't likely to be much learned from it, but any little bit with help us. Once you've done that consult with Travis. Get the ship headed in the direction that torpedo came from, but only at impulse. We don't want to rush headlong into whatever caused this. We need more information, and quickly.  
  
Now they were all staring at their captain. Archer glared back, daring them to comment. In the meantime, I'll be in sickbay with Phlox. I'll expect a preliminary report within an hour. He stepped back so that his glare could encompass all four of them. Get moving.  
  
As they scurried away to perform their assorted tasks, the captain smiled grimly. _Sometimes it's good to be the captain._  
  
##########  
  
Three hours later, the senior staff gathered in the Command Center. Working toward a common goal seemed to have diffused some of the tension, the captain noticed. T'Pol's presentation of the information gathered was a model of professionalism.  
  
Our guest's name is Kras. He is the Science Officer of the Vulcan research vessel _Karil_, T'Pol began the debriefing. The _Karil's_ mission is to make surveys of pre-warp societies in several sectors, discreetly observing them every few years to monitor their progress.  
  
On their most recent visit to a planet known as Modinok, initial scans showed signs of technology far more complex than the indigenous culture had previously displayed. T'Pol paused and checked her notes. I believe the prior level of technology on Modinok was analogous to that of Earth in the early 20th century.  
  
So these people shouldn't have had even the most rudimentary capacity for space travel, Archer sought confirmation.  
  
T'Pol nodded. When the _Karil_ moved into orbit, it was discovered that the inhabitants—the Mahdini—had come to possess extremely advanced technology in the three years since the previous visit, most likely of alien origin. T'Pol paused to survey her audience. As the captain and senior officers were meeting to decide what course of action to take, their ship was struck by an energy pulse which disabled all systems but basic life support. The crew worked to get the other systems back online, but each time they came within striking distance of the goal, another energy pulse from the planet would bring down their systems again. The logical conclusion was that the Mahdini wished to capture or destroy their vessel.  
  
Upon coming to this conclusion, the crew created a plan to reroute enough energy from all systems to fire a single photon torpedo.  
  
And that is the torpedo that is currently sitting in Docking Bay 2, Archer supplied.  
  
Yes, Captain.  
  
What do we know about this energy pulse? Or the alien technology? T'Pol nodded at Trip, indicating that the engineer would field this question.  
  
Only what the _Karil_ was able to scan before its systems were disabled, Tucker picked up the narrative. It appears that the pulse emanates from a central weapons complex. This primary matrix is linked to a series of power relays. From what I can see, the relays may be supplying the power for the pulse weapon, but I can't be absolutely sure, Trip admitted. I'd like to talk to the Vulcan, if that's possible.  
  
Archer shook his head. Phlox says not yet. Anything else?  
  
Hoshi cleared her throat, glancing briefly at T'Pol for permission. The captain of the _Karil_ was covering all his bases. The other PADDs with text were messages from the crew to friends and family members. I read the beginning of each message to make sure, but once I verified that each file contained personal messages, I didn't read further. But I can continue if you want.  
  
Archer shook his head again, unwilling to acknowledge that possibility. No, Lieutenant. Hopefully that won't be necessary.  
  
The silence that had greeted Hoshi's contribution to the meeting continued after the captain's response, the seriousness of the situation driven home most acutely.  
  
Suddenly, the COMM beeped, filling the silence. Phlox was calling with an update on his Vulcan patient. Captain, our guest is awake, the doctor chirped. There was a brief pause, and then the Denobulan went on. You may want to bring a communicator with you, however.  
  
Archer responded automatically. He looked around at the expectant faces of his officers. Sub-Commander, you and Commander Tucker are with me. Malcolm, go over the information on that weapon with a fine-tooth comb. The rest of you, dismissed.  
  
##########  
  
The need for a communicator became evident almost as soon as the small party reached sickbay. The Vulcan spoke no Standard and apparently had no functioning universal translator. T'Pol spoke to Kras soothingly and made introductions in Vulcan, while Trip set up a communicator to translate the conversation.  
  
It didn't take long. As if by magic, Kras' words leaped from Vulcan to Standard. In our quest to power my journey, communicators and translators were not deemed a priority, the translator caught the Vulcan mid-apology.  
  
Archer waved the apology off. Luckily, we still have that technology. The captain paused for only a heartbeat, then got straight to the matter at hand. We've been through all the data PADDs you brought with you, but anything else you can tell us about the situation would help.  
  
Unfortunately, I cannot add much to the data you have already accessed, the Vulcan spoke with regret. You already have all the information we were able to gather before our systems were disabled.  
  
If we attempt a rescue of your crew, would Enterprise be in jeopardy from this energy pulse weapon? T'Pol queried.  
  
It is likely, Kras responded. The readings we took indicated a matrix capable of generating enough energy to disable multiple starships.  
  
Multiple _unsuspecting_ starships, Trip corrected. When the two Vulcans turned on him, frowning, he qualified his statement. The _Karil_ was caught unaware. We'd be going in on full alert, knowing we'd have to evade this pulse. They'd probably have a harder time hitting _Enterprise_ if we stayed out of orbit and kept moving.  
  
Kras considered the human's words. That is a logical assumption. But the necessity to stay in constant motion would make a rescue attempt nearly impossible.  
  
Would Enterprise's phasers or photon torpedos have any affect on the Mahdini weapons complex? Archer asked.  
  
It is unlikely that our weapons would have much effect, if we are unable to move within orbiting range, T'Pol replied.  
  
And however dire the situation, Kras added, we would like to avoid violence. When Captain Archer gave the Vulcan a startled look, Kras explained his position further. The Mahdini have obviously been co-opted by a more advanced race. They are most likely innocent pawns of a species that has played upon their xenophobia. A resolution that does not involve harming them is to be preferred.  
  
Archer sighed, looking at the floor. There were time when he cursed the Vulcans for their pacifistic tendencies, but this time he had to admit that Kras was right.  
  
We could disable their weapon, Trip suggested, startling his companions. His statement brought disbelieving stares from the captain as well as both Vulcans. Trip flourished a PADD, refusing to be cowed by their doubt.  
  
he directed his comments at Kras. From what I can tell from the scans you took, this energy weapon is powered by a series of relays that connect to the primary firing matrix here, Trip pointed the details out on the PADD as he explained them. If we can sabotage the power relays, we can bring their weapon down long enough for _Enterprise_ to pull the _Karil_ out of range!  
  
Dealing with T'Pol had enabled Trip to become quite adept at reading invisible Vulcan expressions. The one that came over Kras' seemingly blank face now was definitely disapprobation, with a hint of distaste thrown in. Even had we more available intelligence, Commander, your plan would be extremely risky.  
  
The engineer looked at the ground, wrestling with his anger at such a defeatist attitude. If you have a better plan to save the 102 people still on the _Karil_, sir, I'll do whatever's necessary to implement it.  
  
Trip's ire was evident, but his demeanor towards the older man indicated nothing but dignity and respect. The controlled emotion definitely made an impression on Kras. The elderly Vulcan locked eyes with the human engineer for several moments before responding.  
  
It is true that our options are limited. Perhaps we can work together to implement your plan and increase its chances of success, Kras finally acquiesced.  
  
Now Trip raised his eyes to Archer's. The captain gave his Chief Engineer a firm nod.  
  
We'll be in the Modinok system in four hours. Let's get a plan ironed out well before that time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Miscommunication  
  
by Ragua  
**  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.  
  
A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute  
  
  
Anyone who has ever seen _The Right Stuff_ will realize that Trip is quoting astronaut Alan Shepherd's immortal line.  
  
**Chapter 7**  
  
Shuttlepod One descended into the atmosphere of Modinok, its hull plating ionized so that it could masquerade as a meteor. Its occupants sat in absolute silence, completing last minute tasks and preparing mentally for their mission.  
  
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed reran all the worst case scenarios that his mind could possibly dream up. According to the _Karil's_ scans, the weapons complex was manned by only a skeleton staff. Kras believed that the majority of the population on Modinok was unaware of the facility, which would account for the absurdly small number of personnel staffing it. Malcolm's job was to get his team in and out of the weapons complex with a minimum of contact with the indigenous species—preferably none whatsoever.  
  
Sub-Commander T'Pol of Vulcan checked and rechecked the information provided her by Kras. Scans of the planet detected only Mahdini life signs. Despite the advanced technology, there were no alien biosigns on the planet. Still, they must be prepared in the event that the species which provided the weaponry had some type of cloaking technology. They could very easily run into unexpected adversaries, particularly as they had so little information on which to base their conclusions.  
  
Commander Charles Tucker III took a deep breath as he piloted the shuttle to an uninhabited landing site and thought, _Dear Lord, please don't let me fuck up._  
  
Basically, this plan was his baby. He'd shot his mouth off that it was possible to sabotage the power relays, and now the lives of 102 people on the _Karil_, 80 people on _Enterprise_, and two of his closest friends depended on whether or not he'd been talking out of his ass.  
  
Trip glanced back at Malcolm and T'Pol. For all the crap that had been going on lately, they _were_ his friends. Malcolm couldn't help having a corncob up his ass. It was probably a British thing.  
  
And T'Pol was a Vulcan. They obviously did things differently. She hadn't been raised to think too highly of humans, either. She was probably scared to death about how close the two of them had become.  
  
Not that she'd ever admit it.  
  
_I'm going to straighten this whole thing out once this mission is over,_ Trip thought.  
  
##########  
  
Good flying, Travis, Captain Archer commended his helmsman.  
  
_Enterprise_ had just completed a swoop through the Modinok system, close enough to scan the planet and the Vulcan ship, send a message that the _Karil_ might or might not be able to read, and hopefully to distract the Mahdini from the descent of Shuttlepod One. Then Archer ordered a strategic and hasty retreat.  
  
_Enterprise_ now orbited the outermost planet of the Modinok system, scanning continuously, ready to leap to Warp at any moment, should the Mahdini pulse weapon be directed at the Earth ship. Archer hoped it wouldn't come to that. Scans of the _Karil_ indicated 100 Vulcan life signs. He couldn't imagine running away and leaving those people to their fate.  
  
_Now we just sit here and wait,_ thought Archer.  
  
The waiting was stressful and frustrating, but it was necessary. In order for the plan to work, communications silence must be maintained. If the Mahdini could monitor their communications, it would give away the presence of the away team on the planet.  
  
And that would pretty much blow their plan to hell.  
  
##########  
  
Malcolm Reed paused in his advance every twenty meters or so to look back at the Science Officer. She would consult her tricorder and gesture in the direction they should take. Finally, she held up her hand and made a decisive gesture to the north. Malcolm continued at a slower pace, and soon their party came to a break in the trees.  
  
The away team crouched down at the edge of the forest. A building that resembled an oversized pillbox stood in the middle of the clearing, all by itself. It appeared to be made of some type of brick, and the door was definitely wooden. It seemed extremely absurd that such a medieval-looking structure could house a power source capable of disabling the Vulcan ship.  
  
Trip moved closer to T'Pol, and she obligingly held her tricorder out for him to see. They exchanged a glance, and Trip nodded. T'Pol turned to Reed. It would appear that this is the first power relay, Lieutenant. Scans indicate no Mahdini in the vicinity.  
  
Well, they're a pack of butt-stupid gits when it comes to security, then, Reed whispered in response. We haven't seen so much as a patrol since we landed! Despite the fact that the lax Mahdini security would make their task easier, Malcolm was quite disgusted with it.  
  
_Someone should have their head handed to them if we succeed with this mission,_ he thought.  
  
Shall we go, then? Trip decided that he should contribute something to the conversation. Malcolm and T'Pol gave each other a consulting look and then both nodded. Reed took point again, moving toward the building at a crouching run. He circled it and tested the door, phaser ready. After a brief pause, he disappeared inside.  
  
There was a moment of silence. Then Reed reappeared at the door, waving them in.  
  
The inside of the building was no more modern than the outside—except for the alien power source. The shiny metallic cylinder in the center of the building looked completely out of place, situated on the concrete floor and surrounded by ordinary, utilitarian furniture. Two wooden tables against the walls opposite each other looked as if they belonged in someone's dining room. Each table was surrounded by a complement of four matching chairs, also made of wood.  
  
_The tables probably have extra leaves for when the relatives come to visit,_ Trip thought wryly.  
  
At almost the same time, Malcolm chanted softly in a singsongy voice, One of these things is not like the other. One of these things is not the same.  
  
Trip looked at the Armory Officer, startled, and then he began to laugh. Malcolm looked a bit embarrassed at first, unaware that he had voiced his thoughts aloud, but soon he began to laugh as well.  
  
T'Pol gave them the Raised Eyebrow of Death. Perhaps you should examine the alien power source, Commander. Our mission _does_ have time constraints.  
  
Still grinning—it had felt good to laugh with Malcolm again—Trip moved to the incongruous cylinder. Reed, all business again, moved to the door to keep an eye out for Mahdini patrols.  
  
After carefully removing the access panel, Trip scanned the alien components before tentatively poking here and there with various tools he had brought with him. As the engineer worked to disable the power source in such a way that it would not be immediately noticeable to any Mahdini who might wander in, T'Pol circled the room, scanning with her tricorder.  
  
Just when Trip decided that he had the power relay figured out, T'Pol's voice brought his attention to something none of them had noticed when they first entered the building. Commander, there is a device on the ceiling of this building directly above the alien power source.  
  
Trip looked up. It was right over his head. Is it gonna be a problem? he asked.  
  
The energy levels of this apparatus have been increasing from the moment you removed the access panel on the cylinder.  
  
Maybe it's a security system of some sort, Reed commented from the doorway. That would certainly explain why they don't feel the need to patrol the area!  
  
The three officers exchanged worried looks, and then an organized panic set in.  
  
Not the most appropriate of responses, but it was all Trip could think of at the moment. He began to work fast, hoping that he had indeed figured the power relay out and that he could disable it before that device did whatever it was created to do.  
  
T'Pol warned, her glance going back and forth between the alien security device and the readings on her tricorder.  
  
I'm almost there. You two back away. There's no telling what this thing is gonna do or what kind of range it has. Trip was determined to finish what he'd started. He didn't notice that neither Reed nor T'Pol followed his instructions. Both, in fact, moved toward him.  
  
The device overhead began to whine. T'Pol cried again, urgently.  
  
Reed was less controlled. he hissed. Get away from there, you bloody fool!  
  
The engineer ignored them both. He had it! he breathed in relief as the power relay ceased humming and its lights dimmed. Grinning at his success, he took a step back, away from the cylinder.  
  
A moment too late.  
  
The security device ceased whining and made a sound like a burp. A shaft of energy shot from above and engulfed the engineer. Malcolm and T'Pol, who had both been moving toward Trip, froze and watched in horror as their friend's body arched rigidly, eyes and mouth agape, transfixed by the alien security beam.  
  
##########  
  
Anything yet, Lieutenant? Captain Archer asked his Communications Officer for the seventh time since the away team had left.  
  
No, Sir, Hoshi replied diffidently, even though part of her wanted to scream at the man. _Yes, Captain,_ she thought sarcastically, _I've actually had several hundred hails, but I haven't said anything about them, because, you know, I'm just flaky that way._  
  
Did he really think she wouldn't tell him the nanosecond she detected something? The linguist sighed, realizing that it would be cruel to snap at him. He was just worried and didn't know what else to do but nag. She felt the same way. Unfortunately, her position as Communications Officer made Hoshi the naggee, not the nagger.  
  
Maybe she should offer some comfort. That might get him off her back. Sir, it's only been an hour. The power relays are each a few kilometers apart. It will probably take them a while.  
  
Archer sighed, but looked grateful at her attempt to cheer him up. Skulking behind this damned red Class A planet like a cockroach in a dark cupboard was making him cranky.  
  
I know, Hoshi. He paced across bridge to her station. I guess I'm just worried that—with everything that's been going on—they might try to kill each other, never mind the Mahdini! Archer eyed the Communications Officer shrewdly out of the corner of his eye. As long as he was stuck waiting around, no harm trying to find out a little more about the local mystery.  
  
Hoshi looked up at her captain, suspiciously.   
  
Archer gave her a knowing look in the hopes that she would buy his bluff and spill the beans. It worked. Sort of.  
  
she snarled. For God's sake! There is absolutely _nothing_ going on between me and Commander Tucker! Hoshi paused to take a breath before she lit into her commanding officer again. Of all the people to have their mind in the gutter! Really, Captain, do you honestly—  
  
No, Hoshi, I don't! Archer interrupted her in a soothing voice. I know both of you well enough to be sure of that! Neither of you would ever be involved in that kind of...behavior.  
  
Hoshi relaxed, somewhat mollified. And also a bit horrified. One of these days she was going to shoot her mouth off to a superior officer one too many times. Then she'd be in the brig for sure.  
  
But not today, apparently! The captain was looking at her expectantly. He just wanted information, the big snoop!  
  
she inquired again, as neutrally as possible.  
  
Like I said, Hoshi, I know you and Trip would never do what people think you're doing, the captain said. But, I have to admit, I'd really like to know why you two have been spending so much time together.  
  
Hoshi sighed. I promised Commander Tucker that I wouldn't tell anyone.  
  
Even your commanding officer? Archer figured that he might as well try the I'm the captain, dammit' angle.  
  
The Communications Officer hesitated. I guess you could order me, Sir. But I think the commander would be really embarrassed if I told, she countered, putting the ball soundly back in the captain's court.  
  
_Damn, she's good,_ Archer thought. _I'm going to have to include her the next time we have to negotiate something._  
  
He pondered for a minute. What if I were to guess? he finally asked. You wouldn't be telling me anything, technically.  
  
Hoshi eyeballed the captain in disbelief. Are you suggesting that we play Twenty Questions, sir?  
  
Archer cocked his head at her and gave her what he hoped was a cheeky, and yet non-threatening, grin. It would be a great way to kill the time while we're waiting, Lieutenant.  
  
From his seat at the helm, Ensign Travis Mayweather grinned as well. With any luck, the captain's questions and Travis's own superb hearing would put him over the top, and he'd make out like a bandit in the ship's pool!  
  
##########  
  
Although time seemed to have slowed to a crawl, _Enterprise's_ Science and Armory Officer hesitated for no more than a fraction of a second. Reed stepped away from the cylinder to get a better angle, pointing his phaser at the security device on the ceiling. T'Pol strode across the room, grabbed one of the wooden chairs, and swung it in an arc toward her pinioned colleague. As though coordinated, Reed's phaser blast struck the security device at the exact same time as T'Pol's chair knocked the trapped engineer free of the energy stream. Trip's collapse was simultaneous with the cessation of the security pulse.  
  
T'Pol and Reed dashed to their fallen comrade. The Vulcan felt the engineer's throat, frantically searching for a pulse. To her intense relief, it was there. It seemed extremely arrhythmic, however. That could not be healthy.  
  
The Science Officer took a deep breath to calm herself, belatedly realizing that Lieutenant Reed was awaiting her verdict.  
  
Mr. Tucker is alive, she informed the stricken Armory Officer. However unwise it may be to move him, we must leave the premises immediately. There is no telling how our destruction of the security device will affect the mission. If the Mahdini have a means of detecting the failure of the device—or weapons fire, for that matter—we need to disable the remaining power relays as quickly as possible.  
  
Reed, although still obviously upset, nodded firmly. He took her tricorder and moved to the door. After a brief surveillance, he returned to her side. It's clear.  
  
T'Pol nodded, taking Commander Tucker's left arm. Malcolm grabbed his right, and the two hauled the unconscious engineer from the building.


	8. Chapter 8

**Miscommunication  
  
by Ragua  
**  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.  
  
A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute )  
  
**Chapter 8**  
  
_I didn't know anyone could be so bad at Twenty Questions,_ Travis grumbled to himself. Captain Archer had obviously never served on a cargo ship. The man had no patience whatsoever, and his questioning technique was pathetic.  
  
He had asked the obvious first two questions: Is it an Engineering matter? and Is it a Communications matter. Both answers had received a from Hoshi, and the captain didn't seem to know where to go from there.  
  
He had wasted quite a few questions searching for some kind of common ground between Hoshi and Commander Tucker: Does it have to do with food? Does it have to do with comic books? Does it have to do with movies or Movie Night? (Hoshi had made the captain count that as two questions.)  
  
It took the captain some time to come to a conclusion that Travis had always known: that the Communications Officer and the Chief Engineer had nothing in common. But he'd used up ten questions to get there! Once the captain counted up the number of questions he had left, he pulled back a bit, pondering his next move.  
  
_Good,_ thought Travis in exasperation. _It's not a race. Give your questions some serious thought, dammit!_  
  
##########  
  
At some point through the haze, the spins, and the fuzzy darkness, Trip realized that he was being half-carried through the woods, face-down, his feet dragging behind.  
  
_Gawd,_ he thought in agony, _when am I gonna learn not to go drinking with Deke and Matty?_  
  
His twin cousins, older than he by five years, never seemed to enjoy getting themselves drunk as much as they did getting their teenaged cousin shit-faced and silly. _Musta been tequila this time,_ Trip concluded, when the earth spun and his stomach took a turn. _Mom and Aunt Beezy are _really_ gonna be mad._  
  
He must have made some kind of noise, because his cousins set him down—much more gently than he would have expected—and knelt beside him. With an incredible amount of concentration and effort, Trip managed to raise his head from the dirt, only to realize that the face looking back at him did not belong to either of his cousins.  
  
Even through his muddled vision, he could see it was a gorgeous woman. With pointed ears!  
  
Damn, yer hot! he blurted, before another part of his brain had a chance to caution him that a subtler approach might have more success.  
  
The woman raised an eyebrow at him before turning to her companion. It seems that Commander Tucker has been mentally incapacitated from his encounter with the alien security device, she announced.  
  
Now another face loomed queasily into view, making Trip's stomach flip again. This person was also not a cousin, although he did look vaguely familiar. _I know that guy,_ Trip thought. _But from where?_  
  
the guy asked. Can you tell me your name? Trip just stared at him. How about the day of the week?  
  
_Whoa, cool accent,_ Trip thought, impressed. _Sounds like James Bond!_ Probably works great with the ladies, he said aloud, slurring the words together.  
  
The British guy and the pointy-earred woman shared a horrified look. Then they both turned back to stare at him. the woman asked. What do you remember about _Enterprise_? Or our mission?  
  
We're on a planet called Modinok, the British guy coached. You're in charge of disabling the alien energy relays.  
  
Damn, that did sound familiar. And he felt as though he really should know these two people. Trip lowered his forehead back to the dirt. The ground was definitely moving. Didn't they feel it?  
  
Gimme a minute, he stalled, hoping that his head would stop spinning long enough for him to make the necessary connections.  
  
_Enterprise_. Modinok. Mission. Commander_. _ Trip had a moment of clarity. _That's me. I'm the Commander._ And that meant the British guy was...  
  
  
  
A look of relief and hope swept over the stiff face. The pointy-earred babe didn't change her facial expression, but Trip got the impression that she was pissed off that he hadn't identified her yet.  
  
Pointy ears. A Vulcan? And suddenly his brain leapt from the past to the present, although the abrupt mental about-face brought another round of nausea.  
  
Oh gawd. Had he just—in some kind of drunken stupor—told T'Pol she was hot?  
  
T'Pol acknowledged his correct identification. After a short pause, she added, We are in something of a hurry, Mr. Tucker.  
  
Gimme a minute, Trip begged again. He managed to get himself onto his hands and knees.  
  
After which, he promptly tipped over onto his side.  
  
Refusing to admit defeat, he tried again. This time, he managed to propel himself nearly upright. Then the ground lurched beneath him. He staggered about for a few paces, trying wildly to keep his feet, but ultimately he toppled over again, directly into a bush on the side of the path.  
  
T'Pol and Malcolm rushed to pick him up.  
  
Gimme a minute, Trip pleaded a third time.  
  
T'Pol responded severely. We do not _have_ a minute. With that, she and Malcolm proceeded to drag him along with them to the next power relay.  
  
##########  
  
To the relief of Hoshi Sato and the irritation of Travis Mayweather, Twenty Questions came to an abrupt end when Vulcan Science Officer Kras arrived on the bridge and requested permission to assist in the rescue effort.  
  
Jonathan Archer wasn't crazy about the idea. Despite receiving a clean bill of health from Phlox, the elderly Vulcan seemed frail. Not to mention the fact that he _was_ a Vulcan. Hell, it had taken Archer nearly a year to get used to T'Pol!  
  
Still, it was Kras' ship and crew that were in danger. The man had every right to be part of the effort to save them.  
  
Archer nodded his permission, and Hoshi showed _Enterprise's_ new Acting Science Officer to T'Pol's usual post.  
  
_Guess solving the mystery will have to wait,_ the captain sighed to himself. He couldn't very well pump Hoshi for information with Kras manning the station right behind her. Not that he was getting anywhere with his informal investigation anyway.  
  
Although...  
  
Archer narrowed his eyes shrewdly as he watched _Enterprise's_ Communications Officer pointing out the details of the Science Station to Kras and translating the various controls for him—all in the man's native language.  
  
The captain smiled. _Good thing Hoshi's fluent in so many languages,_ he thought. _Sure comes in handy._  
  
##########  
  
The away team crouched at the edge of the clearing that housed the second power relay station. The little brick turret was identical to the first building. And once again, there was no sign of the planet's inhabitants anywhere in the vicinity.  
  
Commander, do you believe you are capable of disarming the alien power source? T'Pol asked the man lying on his face next to her.  
  
Trip had long since admitted to himself that his motor functions were nowhere near being up to the task. Being dragged through the forest because he was unable to stand on his own two feet gave him plenty of time to arrive at this conclusion.  
  
he responded brusquely, his voice muffled by the dirt because he was too dizzy to lift his head. Can talk you through it, though, he went on, even though speaking seemed to exacerbate the queasiness.  
  
Is your condition improving at all? Reed wanted to know.  
  
the engineer slurred. Dizzy. Sick. From the expression on Malcolm's face, Tucker could tell that the Armory Officer did not fully appreciate Trip's suffering. The engineer attempted to explain. Like too much tequila.  
  
Reed winced, a look of sympathy crossing his stony face. _Tequila!_ His stomach cringed.  
  
We should not waste anymore time, T'Pol's announced. The two of them lifted the engineer from the ground, but the sudden movement was too much for Trip's self-control.  
  
Wait, please! Uurk—  
  
Maybe it was the mention of tequila, maybe his own drinking experience made Reed familiar with that particular sound. Whatever the case, the Armory Officer—displaying an impressive agility—dropped the engineer's arm and leaped back, well out of range.  
  
T'Pol, however, possibly due to lack of experience with the overindulgence of alcohol, did not recognize the warning signs. Consequently, her boots bore the brunt of the assault as Commander Tucker emptied the contents of his stomach onto the forest floor.  
  
Reed didn't know whether to laugh hysterically at the expression on the Sub-Commander's face or offer comfort to the Chief Engineer, who was now sputtering and spitting in an attempt to eliminate the memory—and the evidence—of his most recent bodily function. Malcolm satisfied himself with pulling Trip away from the mess while T'Pol came to terms with her close encounter with human digestion.  
  
_Or the failure thereof,_ Reed chuckled to himself, despite their obviously dire circumstances.  
  
Once T'Pol had scraped her boots relatively clean on an obliging bush, she assisted Reed in carrying the ailing engineer into the building housing the Mahdini power relay. The Armory Officer had obviously thought out a strategy to ameliorate the current awkward situation. He immediately positioned one of the wooden chairs backwards near the power relay and helped Trip to straddle it.  
  
_Good ol' Malcolm,_ Trip thought, as he held onto the back of the chair for dear life. _Always thinkin' ahead.  
  
_If this security device is identical to the previous one we encountered, T'Pol stated, we should have three minutes and 30 seconds from the time the access panel is opened before it discharges an energy pulse. She glanced at Reed. If we can disable the power relay within that time, it may not be necessary to fire on the security device.  
  
Malcolm nodded and took up a position near the door, phaser in one hand, tricorder in the other. T'Pol glanced at the engineer.  
  
Give me a sec, he requested. Need ta focus. Get it right.  
  
Trip closed his eyes, calling up the grid of the alien power relay in his mind. He knew that he could only talk T'Pol through the process from memory. He couldn't see straight; the energy pulse had left his vision blurry and doubled. If he opened his eyes and looked at the panel, he would only make himself sick.  
  
The Science Officer maintained a respectful silence, knowing inherently that their mission now hinged upon the engineer's mental discipline. She gripped his tools in her hands, watching as he took slow, deep breaths, his face bathed in perspiration from the effort. Just as she realized that he was utilizing the Vulcan breathing exercises that she had taught him, he spoke.  
  
'kay. Go.  
  
T'Pol removed the access panel. Her superior hearing thought it detected a whine from above, but she blotted it out of her mind, focusing instead on the engineer's blunt, yet clear instructions.  
  
Left side. Five power couplings.  
  
Giving off a somewhat blue light? T'Pol asked.  
  
Yes. Start from rear. Move to front. Reroute flow at Y-junction of each.  
  
T'Pol efficiently followed the engineer's instructions, which came quickly, despite sporadic pauses as he alternated between gasping, panting, and taking deep, slow breaths. The Vulcan marveled at the human's concentration. He was guiding her from the memory of a procedure he had performed only once, and in spite of incurring some type of brain injury from the alien security device. Before she knew it, the power relay stopped humming, and its lights went off.  
  
_A Vulcan could not have done better,_ T'Pol found herself thinking, as she replaced the access panel. She glanced at the engineer. Despite their success, he slouched miserably, head down, hugging the back of the chair.  
  
The security device powered down as soon as you replaced the panel. Reed's voice caught her attention. T'Pol nodded, gathering up the tools. As soon as she had them stowed, she grasped Trip's arm. The Armory Officer moved to assist her.  
  
The engineer's firm voice startled them both. Gotta leave me.  
  
Don't be ridiculous! Malcolm chided, after a moment of shock. We're not leaving you.  
  
Not upta you, Lieutenant, Trip slurred, managing to open one eye and glare at the Armory Officer. He shifted his eyes to T'Pol, holding her gaze for a moment, before shutting them tightly in obvious pain. Way behind schedule already. T'Pol can do it now. Get goin'.  
  
The Science Officer's arm hovered over the engineer's as his words gave her pause. His statement was eminently logical. However...  
  
We will not leave you behind, Commander, T'Pol decided, uncertain of what motivated her to say such an illogical thing. She attempted to take hold of him, but unaccountably, he struggled against her grip, managing both to elude her and fall out of the chair at the same time. An exasperated Reed pounced on the engineer, and together he and T'Pol dragged Trip from the building.  
  
He continued to struggle and protest weakly. Sub-Commander! Malcolm, dammit. T'Pol, stop! One of his flailing arms managed to catch the Vulcan's ankles, tripping her up. Both she and the engineer flopped unceremoniously to the ground. Reed staggered under Trip's weight, but managed to maintain his feet by releasing his grip on the engineer's arm.  
  
scolded T'Pol, trying to grab his arm again. He eluded her attempts, moving it away from her seeking hand, like a child playing keep-away from a younger sibling. Then, to her surprise, he counterattacked, grasping her own hand in his.  
  
His desperate tone and perfect pronunciation stopped T'Pol cold. She gripped his hand in return, moved, and yet unsure of how to respond to his personal plea. He solved the problem for her.  
  
he gasped. Needs of the many...outweigh...needs of the few.  
  
His whisper was for hear ears alone, but it was enough. T'Pol could not counter an appeal to the Father of Logic coming from the lips of the most emotional human she had ever known. She sat still for only a heartbeat. Then, galvanized, she took hold of his shoulder again and spoke to Reed. Lieutenant, assist me in moving Commander Tucker from the main path.  
  
Reed followed her orders, but protested at the same time. We're not leaving him!  
  
The commander will remain here while we complete the mission, T'Pol spoke for her own benefit as much as Reed's. Once we have done so, we will return for him.  
  
They deposited the engineer under a bush some 10 meters from the main path. T'Pol knelt and placed a communicator in his hand. Commander, contact us immediately if you encounter any trouble. He nodded, but she knew he would never follow her instructions. She leaned closer and whispered a more personal direction. Stay right here, _t'hai'la_. We _will_ return for you. He nodded again, and she noticed his lips turn up slightly in an almost smile.  
  
She squeezed his shoulder and rose abruptly, summoning Reed with a glance. Malcolm looked back once and then followed T'Pol to the main path, where they moved briskly toward the third power relay. Both officers remained focused on their objective, despite the inner turmoil generated by T'Pol's decision.  
  
_What did he say to convince her, I wonder?_ Reed thought to himself. He had strained his ears to the limit, but had only heard a murmur.  
  
T'Pol attempted to find solace in the logic of the argument Commander Tucker had used. _He is right, of course,_ she tried to console herself. Logic, however, did not erase the sense of wretchedness that she had abandoned her _t'hai'la_.  
  
_And when,_ she asked herself, puzzled, _had he studied the teachings of Surak?_


	9. Chapter 9

**Miscommunication  
  
by Ragua  
**  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.  
  
A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute  
  
  
Many thanks to Clicks, the wonder beta!  
  
Allow me to apologize in advance for the graphically disgusting nature of Trip's ailment. I just have a sick mind. (Sorry again for the bad pun.)  
  
**Chapter 9**  
  
Malcolm Reed held his breath as he watched the alien patrol, appalled at how near he and T'Pol had come to being discovered. When the Science Officer had announced that the next power relay was less than 100 meters away, he had hurried the advance, neglecting to conduct the most basic scan with his tricorder. At the time, all he could think was that the sooner they completed their mission, the sooner they could return for Trip.  
  
Luckily his training and common sense made him pause automatically at the edge of the forest, and that had saved the mission from ending in complete disaster. The Mahdini patrol came into view around the power relay station just as Reed was raising his foot to step into the clearing. Malcolm reacted instantaneously, pivoting on his planted foot, and dropping to the ground, frantically motioning to T'Pol to do the same. When the Vulcan complied, Reed turned his attention back to the clearing.  
  
There were four Mahdini. The dim light did not prevent Malcolm from noticing that they were most certainly different from humans. Vulcans, too, for that matter.  
  
They were all quite stocky, and their heads seemed very round. _Like ripe fruits,_ Malcolm decided. The Armory Officer spent a moment pondering whether they were shaped more like mangoes or cantaloupes. The coloring was definitely a cross between the two. The Mahdini in the patrol were all orange-colored, but their individual shades ran the gamut between the pastel of cantaloupe to the near red of mango.  
  
What concerned Reed most was their bat-like ears. Most likely, that meant excellent hearing. Weren't bats able to hear frequencies inaudible to the human ear? Malcolm found himself wishing that he had paid more attention all the times this mother forced him to watch nature documentaries with her.  
  
T'Pol apparently shared his concern. She moved stealthily next to him and gave a hand signal that they should move away from the path. With a minimum of noise, they retreated far enough into the forest to avoid detection, but not so far as to inhibit their surveillance of the Mahdini patrol.  
  
The patrol did not seem particularly disciplined. Two Mahdini entered the building, while two maintained an extremely casual watch outside. Reed grimaced in disgust. They seemed more like teenagers loitering on a street corner! The impression of youthfulness was magnified when their comrades came back outside after what could only have been a most cursory inspection of the building's interior. The patrol headed jauntily in the direction of the path recently vacated by the _Enterprise_ officers, chatting in a jovial manner.  
  
The Universal Translator caught snatches of the patrol's conversation as the Mahdini traipsed across the clearing and up the path.  
  
...what we're looking for...  
  
Who knows? Who cares?  
  
...those scientists...seeing aliens around every corner...  
  
...need to get out more!  
  
Or find something better to do with their...  
  
The last statement generated a great deal of laughter, which hung about long after the Mahdini had disappeared into the trees.  
  
Reed held up his tricorder to follow the progress of the patrol. When it indicated that they were more than 200 meters away, he turned to T'Pol to indicate that it was safe for them to continue. The Vulcan, however, was still staring intently down the path the Mahdini had taken. Malcolm followed her gaze, abruptly identifying her concern. Their eyes locked in horror.  
  
They had left Trip only 10 meters from that same path.  
  
##########  
  
Commander Charles Tucker III was crouched on his knees with his face in the dirt and his arms over his head. It was a reverent pose, but if the engineer was praying for anything, it was only that he would die quickly.  
  
His injury had all the negative elements of an alcohol overdose, but sadly none of the enjoyable aspects associated with arriving at that state. He couldn't even look forward to the morning when it would all be over, because at the moment, it didn't look as if his suffering would _ever_ end.  
  
Trip had initially thought that he would feel better after purging his stomach. That was the way these things normally worked, after all. But the nausea, the dizziness, and the sweats had all returned with a vengeance. He felt absolutely wretched, praying for a merciful death alone here on this alien planet. At least he didn't have the added humiliation of having his friends present to watch him puking his guts out.  
  
The engineer had been sick twice more, and neither episode had resulted in an improvement in his condition. If anything, he felt worse. T'Pol had told him to stay put, but he couldn't bear to remain in the vicinity of the partially digested contents of his last meal, so he had forced himself to crawl away from each mess.  
  
It wasn't as if he was getting very far anyway. And if they had to, T'Pol and Malcolm could track him down by following the trail of vomit he was leaving behind.  
  
Trip groaned in agony, trying to get his mind to focus on something that would help him fight off the next wave of nausea. He'd already tried reviewing the process for disarming the power relay, but apparently that was a one-time deal. Utilizing that technique had resulted in puddle number one.  
  
Then he had attempted to mentally conduct a retrofit of his warp engine. That had worked for a little while, but you could only conduct so many imaginary upgrades. Once he had his dream engine all decked out to the nines, the queasiness returned. Puddle number two followed shortly thereafter.  
  
What else could he concentrate on to head off the increasing queasiness? He had to focus on something!  
  
_Focus, dammit!_ Tripped begged his addled brain.  
  
_Thakau_, it responded.  
  
_Ah!_ Trip thought hopefully. _Ozhikaik._  
  
How logical.  
  
##########  
  
Multitasking impressively, Sub-Commander T'Pol and Lieutenant Reed argued in whispers while simultaneously completing the next phase of their mission.  
  
Commander Tucker is completely vulnerable, Malcolm hissed while scanning for Mahdini at the door of the third power relay station. We have to go back for him before that patrol finds him! He turned his tricorder to the alien security device just above the head of the Vulcan Science Officer.  
  
We left Mr. Tucker at least 10 meters from the path, T'Pol countered as she worked efficiently to disarm the power relay. You and I were much closer than that, and the patrol was completely unaware of our presence.  
  
Reed made an exasperated noise as he returned his attention to the building's exterior. You and I were fully cognizant and in complete possession of all our faculties! he muttered rebelliously as he monitored for signs of a patrol.  
  
T'Pol finished her task and began to replace the access panel. While your assessment of the Commander's condition is correct, it would be illogical to jeopardize our mission—not to mention the lives on the _Karil_ and possibly on _Enterprise_ as well—for the sake of a single person. She paused before continuing. And you know Mr. Tucker well enough to realize that he would not want us to do so.  
  
The Vulcan turned away from him to collect the tools, in case her face revealed how much saying the words cost her. When she looked up again, she saw her own misery reflected in the Armory Officer's countenance.  
  
Time is of the essence, she comforted softly. The sooner we finish our mission, the sooner we can return for Commander Tucker.  
  
Their eyes met for a moment before Malcolm dropped his gaze, nodding. His professional mask replaced the anguished expression on his face as he scanned the exterior of the building once again.  
  
It's clear, he said gruffly, heading for the next power relay without looking back at her.  
  
##########  
  
Trip lay on his side, eyes half open, muttering to himself. The Vulcan strategy was working well.  
  
_Gol-tor ozhika nash-veh,_ Trip declared firmly. Logic is helping me!  
  
Seemed only fair, though, seeing as how he was helping the Vulcans. (_Gol-tor nash-veh Vuhlkansu._)  
  
He disabled the power relay. (_Rikup-tor nash-veh..._) Trip paused for a moment, stumped. What was power relay? He couldn't remember. He'd use That would work. (_Rikup-tor nash-veh zuvel._)  
  
Of course, he'd disabled only one gizmo. T'Pol was currently disabling the rest. (_Rikup-tor T'Pol zuvel._) And Malcolm was helping her. (_Gol-tor Malcolm T'Pol._)  
  
The engineer took a deep breath and continued. The Vulcan language was definitely having a calming effect on his stomach. (_Hayal-tor Vuhlkansu skaun-sa'haf._) Probably because he couldn't even imagine a Vulcan barfing. Did Vulcans even experience nausea? (_Slahk?_) Did they vomit? (_Pluhk?_)  
  
_With words like that they must,_ Trip decided. The Vulcan words certainly sounded like the noise a person made when...  
  
_Uh-oh._ Trip realized too late that he had made an error (_lafosh_) in straying from the script. The thought of regurgitation in any language seemed to be a catalyst. He frantically attempted to focus (_thakau!_) on the translations rather than his runaway peristalsis.  
  
_Kroikah!_ the engineer begged his stomach. All to no avail.  
  
After several agonizing moments during which he emitted sounds that mimicked the Vulcan word for his actions, Trip wobbled on his hands and knees as he gazed miserably down at puddle number three.  
  
##########  
  
Geerkha had been excited and proud at having been selected to work at Science Center Prime. It was a very prestigious position, despite the fact that no one really knew much of what went on at the facility. But at least it paid well!  
  
The reality of the job was disappointing, however. And extremely boring. All he had done so far was wander around the vast grounds of the complex making sure that there were no interlopers. He had begun the job with extreme conscientiousness, but now he merely went along for the ride when patrolling the grounds with his coworkers.  
  
Things had been tense recently, though. SCP scuttlebutt said that the scientists had actually used the Protectors' Shield to capture an alien space vessel! Geerkha raised his eyes to the stars. If the rumors were true, then the spaceship was somewhere up there, invisible to his eyes. It was certainly true that the scientists had been more agitated lately. They had doubled the number of patrols, and the Guardsman supervisor had impressed upon them the need to be alert for anything out of the ordinary.  
  
_Perhaps they suspect that the aliens will still be able to attack our planet!_ Geerkha thought fearfully. That was just what the Protectors wanted to prevent!  
  
Suddenly the patrol leader, Mir-Dan, stopped and held up a hand, his ears flicking to the right. The others followed his example, listening intently.  
  
There was something in the bushes to the right of the path. It was making a hideous sound.  
  
Mir-Dan motioned for Geerkha to take point. The neophyte would have liked to protest, but he realized that, as the rookie, he could expect the most distasteful assignments. With his light-rifle held well out in front of him, Geerkha cautiously made his way toward the sound. It gave him small comfort to feel his comrades at his back.  
  
The horrible sound ceased abruptly, only to be replaced by other, less threatening noises. Is sounded ? The Mahdini patrol closed in. Whatever it was was right there in front of them, under that bush!  
  
A sudden flash of light made Geerkha jump. Mir-Dan was directing his handheld beam at the noises. A creature of some sort became visible. It froze and looked in their direction.  
  
Geerkha squealed in terror and was belatedly gratified to realize that he was not the only one doing so. With the exception of Mir-Dan, the rest of the patrol was panicking as well. The formerly silent forest was now a-babble with Mahdini voices.  
  
Mother of All, what _is_ that?  
  
An alien! It's an alien! Just like the Protectors warned us about!  
  
No, it's an animal of some sort. Look at the fur on its head!  
  
An animal? You idiot, it's wearing clothes!  
  
Ye gods, it's ugly!  
  
It's blind. Look at its eyes!  
  
That must be why it isn't trying to run away.  
  
No, it's ill. See? It's been sick!  
  
Eeeuuuw...alien puke!  
  
Mir-Dan barked at his underlings. The other Mahdini ceased their commentary and eyed their notoriously short-tempered superior. Mir-Dan moved forward cautiously to get a better view of the creature. After observing it for several moments, the patrol leader came to a decision. We must take it to SCP Headquarters. Our instructions are explicit. Captured aliens are to be kept alive and turned over to the Protectors.  
  
Now the Mahdini turned their eyes uncertainly back to the creature. It didn't seem particularly threatening. Actually, it looked vaguely pathetic, crouching in the light of Mir-Dan's beam and trembling miserably.  
  
Still, no one wanted to be the first to touch it.  
  
Gods of our fathers! cried Mir-Dan in exasperation after several moments of silent inactivity. Let's each of us grab one of its limbs. It can't be that heavy. And it doesn't look capable of putting up much of a struggle.  
  
As the four Mahdini converged on the quivering alien, Mir-Dan added in disgust, And we'll carry it face-down, in case it vomits again.  
  
##########  
  
T'Pol's voice distracted Malcolm from his scans of the forest. They were taking a brief rest before moving on to the next power relay. When the Armory Officer looked in her direction questioningly, the Vulcan continued. Does the word hot' have any meanings other than the obvious?  
  
Reed was confused. Uhm, Sub-Commander?  
  
When he first regained consciousness, Commander Tucker stated that I was hot.' At the time, I believed him delirious. But perhaps I was mistaken.  
  
The Armory Officer was nonplussed, wondering how to respond. Erm...well, from the commander's comments, not to mention the symptoms he displayed, I would guess that his injury resulted in a condition similar to the over-consumption of alcohol.  
  
So you believe that Commander Tucker was behaving as if inebriated? When Malcolm nodded, the Vulcan followed up on this theory. And inebriation leads humans to guess at the body temperature of others?  
  
Malcolm sputtered, trying not to laugh outright. No, Sub-Commander! When inebriated, humans often say things they wouldn't normally say! When T'Pol continued to look puzzled, Reed gulped and forged ahead. Ah, hot' is...um...slang for physically attractive.'  
  
T'Pol thought about this for a moment. You are intimating that Commander Tucker would not call me attractive' under normal circumstances?  
  
The Armory Officer hesitated, weighing his words carefully. Well, I can't speak for the commander, but perhaps he feels that it would be inappropriate to do so.  
  
Due to Starfleet's non-fraternization rule?  
  
Reed stalled. Then he was overcome by a sudden desire to tell the truth. Or he could simply be intimidated by you.  
  
The Science Officer raised an eyebrow. Reed responded to the unspoken question. No offense, Sub-Commander, but your demeanor _is_ rather intimidating from a human perspective. Malcolm was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation.  
  
_I'm a Tactical Officer,_ he groused silently, _not a relationship counselor._  
  
He stood up. We should be moving on.  
  
T'Pol agreed, collecting her gear and joining him.  
  
##########  
  
Upon surreptitiously activating the UT on the communicator T'Pol had left him, Trip was disappointed to learn that the Mahdini had no intention of killing him.  
  
_My one chance to be put out of my misery, shot to hell,_ the engineer lamented. If he could somehow get hold of the phaser in his jumpsuit pocket without the Mahdini noticing, maybe he could just kill himself.  
  
The journey from the forest to the main building had been particularly hellish. The Mahdini patrol had trotted along briskly, bouncing him like a basketball. He had been sick so many times that there was absolutely nothing left in his stomach. His abdominal muscles ached from the continuous dry heaving, and he was sure that the lining of his esophagus was shredded.  
  
Trip's misery left him indifferent to the aliens' reaction to their first human. He maintained his silence—no difficulty in his weakened and queasy state—and listened dimly to the Mahdini conversation going on over his head.  
  
His presentation at the main building of the Mahdini weapons complex created quite a stir. The human was quickly surrounded by scientists who all assumed that he had come from the disabled vessel that orbited their planet. Speculation about his appearance, his species, and the reason for his presence flew fast and furious.  
  
Could they be attempting to communicate with us?  
  
They're not very good at it, if that's the case. This one can't even speak!  
  
Why would they send a blind individual?  
  
Maybe that's their natural eye color.  
  
It's obviously quite ill. Perhaps, in desperation, they are jettisoning those too weak to be useful?  
  
Didn't the Protectors mention...  
  
Mention what?  
  
I could be wrong...  
  
Spit it out, man!  
  
That some aliens have the ability to create a biological weapon? A disease transferred by medium of a living host?  
  
The worried scientist's speculation created a deadly silence. Trip sensed, rather than saw, a general retreat from his prone form. Then conversation continued, taking on a more sinister tone.  
  
I knew it! I _knew_ we should have contacted the Protectors immediately!  
  
We must destroy it, before its disease can spread!  
  
_Yes, please,_ Trip begged silently. _Listen to that guy!_  
  
No, the Protectors will be better able to find a cure if the host is alive!  
  
At the very least, we must quarantine it!  
  
Aren't we all infected now?  
  
This question brought another terrified silence. Finally, another scientist spoke hesitantly.  
  
We...the majority of us...should be fine, he hemmed. Only those who touched the creature are likely to be infected. The four guardsmen who had brought Trip in shifted uneasily and shared worried glances. The scientist became increasingly confident, having hit upon a solution that was to his liking. Which is convenient! They can stay and watch the alien. The rest of us can move to safety!  
  
_Oh, please!_ Trip groaned inwardly at the self-serving hypothesis. _How transparent is that?_  
  
However questionable the conclusion, all the scientists agreed with it, as it allowed them to flee the potential danger. Orders were issued to contact the Protectors and to have all available guardsmen scour the perimeter for more aliens, while Mir-Dan and his patrol stayed to monitor the captured specimen. Within minutes, the main building of the weapons complex of Modinok was empty except for four terrified Mahdini guardsmen and a single nauseated human.  
  
Mir-Dan was taken aback by the unexpected turn of events. Confronted with a problem beyond his expertise, his professionalism vanished. He exchanged panicked looks with his patrol and finally came to a decision.  
  
Geerkha! You...you stay here and guard the alien! the patrol leader ordered his most junior subordinate. The rest of us will...will join the search for additional alien incursions! The other two guardsmen nodded eagerly in agreement.  
  
But..but Mir-Dan... Geerkha protested, aghast at the thought of being left alone with the infected alien.  
  
Are you questioning your superior, Guardsman!?!? Mir-Dan shrieked, a tad hysterically.  
  
N-no, sir, but...  
  
Good! We'll...we'll check back with you once we've conducted our search!  
  
And with that, Mir-Dan and the other two guardsmen fled the building.  
  
_Wow,_ thought Trip, sympathetic towards the youthful Mahdini in spite of his own misery. _That's just messed up._  
  
##########  
  
  
  
Hoshi, excited that she finally had something to report, used a voice that was perhaps a bit louder than necessary. Her exclamation certainly made everyone on the bridge jump.  
  
Archer queried as calmly as possibly, surreptitiously feeling his heart to make sure that it was still in his chest.  
  
There's a subspace signal sir. It's coming from Modinok! the Communications Officer stated.  
  
Are they hailing us? Archer asked, wondering why they should do so now, after ignoring _Enterprise_ for hours.  
  
No, sir, the linguist responded, a bit puzzled herself. It isn't directed at us!  
  
It would appear, supplied Kras in his calm, laconic way, that the signal is a beacon or an alert of some sort, intended for communication over great distances.  
  
The bridge was silent for several moments as the bridge personnel processed the Vulcan's statement. From the apprehensive looks he saw, Archer suspected that most were reaching the same conclusion that he had.  
  
They're sending a message to whoever gave them that technology, the captain voiced the conclusion.  
  
A logical assumption, agreed Kras.  
  
Archer pressed his lips together, thinking. Continue scans, he directed, but extend them to the farthest range possible. I want to know the second any alien ships are detected.  
  
As Kras moved to comply, Archer once again began to pace the bridge.  
  
He wished he was still playing Twenty Questions.


	10. Chapter 10

**Miscommunication  
  
by Ragua  
**  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.  
  
A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute  
  
  
Many thanks to Clicks for handling the beta.  
  
Those readers who have been around for a while—we're not old, we're _mature_!—may recognize one of Trip's lines as something I pirated from an old Bill Cosby standup performance.  
  
**Chapter 10**  
  
Geerkha stood with his back to the wall as far from the alien as possible. While he was most likely contaminated already, it couldn't hurt to take preventive steps.  
  
a voice whispered.  
  
Geerkha's ears swiveled around as he tried to identify the location of the speaker.  
  
Hey, I won't hurt you! came the voice again.  
  
The young Mahdini gaped at the still figure on the floor against the opposite wall. Had the _alien_ just spoken to him? It's disturbingly pale eyes were definitely turned in his direction. It held some kind of device in its right hand.  
  
Geerkha ordered, his voice more high-pitched than normal. Be quiet, you!  
  
Not dangerous, the alien continued, ignoring him. Not contagious.  
  
Then why are you so ill? Geerkha demanded angrily. How dare the alien contaminate him and then offer reassurances!  
  
Your planet. Something here, the alien responded.  
  
My planet is a _very_ healthy place! huffed the Mahdini, offended that the alien seemed to be impugning his home.  
  
For you, it retorted.  
  
If my home is so unhealthy to you, why did you come here? Geerkha asked accusingly.  
  
To free...ship.  
  
The ship up there? Geerkha pointed. The one that has come to enslave my people?  
  
The alien's eyelids, which had been drooping wearily as it spoke, popped open wide. it squawked in disbelief. It stared at Geerkha with its mouth open for a moment. What the...who...why would you think anyone's going to enslave you?!? it sputtered indignantly. The effort left it gasping, but it kept its narrowed eyes on Geerkha, apparently outraged at the charge.  
  
The creature's shock and anger were more convincing to Geerkha than its words. Obviously enslaving the Mahdini had never crossed the alien's mind! They...the Protectors warned us that there are many aliens who try to enslave those who are less advanced, he explained defensively. Perhaps we were mistaken in our assumption that you were one of those species?  
  
Damn right! grumbled the alien, obviously still insulted by the accusation.  
  
There was a moment of silence between them. Why are you here then? the young Mahdini pressed, curious now.  
  
To free the ship, the alien repeated.  
  
Yes, I know that, Geerkha replied patiently. But why was your ship here in the first place?  
  
Exploring. To learn about other places, other people, came the ready reply. The statement was infused with a sort of pride that whetted Geerkha's curiosity.  
  
Why would you want to do that? he queried, intrigued at the idea.  
  
The alien opened its eyes wide again, startled by the question. Why _wouldn't_ you? it countered.  
  
To that Geerkha had no response.  
  
##########  
  
_Damn,_ Trip thought, closing his eyes and breathing deeply to calm his stomach. Kras wasn't kidding when he said that these Mahdini were hidebound and xenophobic!  
  
What kind of people _wouldn't_ want to go exploring? Wouldn't even think to do it?  
  
Still, the kid seemed nice, and he certainly had gotten a bum deal, being stuck with the diseased alien. The engineer's humor and good-nature allowed him to momentarily overcome his physical distress. Might as well be friendly. He certainly wasn't up to much else at the moment.  
  
My name's Trip. What's yours? he asked the kid.  
  
The Mahdini immediately became suspicious again. Why do you want to know?  
  
Trip blinked and unthinkingly said the first thing that came to his mind. My mom taught me to be polite.  
  
The kid was dumbfounded by the unexpected response. Trip watched various expressions flit across the alien face.  
  
_He's kinda like a big peach, with cat's ears and black button eyes,_ the engineer mused.  
  
Yours, too? Trip asked, testing a theory.  
  
The Mahdini nodded, a slightly embarrassed look overtaking the other facial expressions. Yes, she did, he verbally acknowledged his mother's training before going on. I am called Geerkha.  
  
Trip smiled weakly. Nice ta meetcha, Geerkha.  
  
I am pleased to meet you, Trip, the young Mahdini responded formally.  
  
Then, as if making a difficult decision, he moved toward the human, slowly. When he was within arm's reach of Trip, Geerkha squatted comfortably on his haunches, tipping his head to one side and flicking his ears forward.  
  
You are a very interesting alien, Trip. Could you please tell me more about your exploring? The young Mahdini requested politely, seeming determined to demonstrate his own good manners.  
  
The engineer felt his mouth stretch into a grin. This was going to be an interesting first contact. He wondered if he'd get any credit for it.  
  
##########  
  
Captain, long range sensors detect three alien vessels approaching, Kras announced calmly.  
  
Archer, who had been dreading this moment, stopped pacing to look at the Vulcan. How long before they get here?  
  
At their present speed, they should arrive in the Modinok system within 6 hours and 42 minutes, Kras calculated.  
  
The captain took a moment to do some calculations of his own. We'll give the away team those 42 minutes. If we haven't heard from them by then, we'll break communications silence and contact them. Archer turned to Hoshi and continued. Lieutenant, hail the _Karil_. If they don't respond, continue hailing them every ten minutes. Maybe, if we can contact them, they'll have some ideas.  
  
Archer began pacing again. Although he didn't want to consider the possibility, he began to formulate alternate plans in case contact with the away team resulted in bad news.  
  
##########  
  
T'Pol and Malcolm sped along the path to their final destination. They had encountered no resistance at the fourth power relay, and Malcolm expected none. Given the lax security that he had seen, not to mention the extremely unprofessional patrol, it was highly unlikely that the Mahdini had anything more up their collective sleeves. Still, one couldn't be too cautious.  
  
The thought had no sooner entered his head when his tricorder alerted him to the presence of a large group of Mahdini moving in their direction. He signaled to T'Pol, and the two of them moved silently from the path and deeper into the woods. With any luck, they could continue on to the fifth power relay once this group had passed.  
  
The Armory Officer soon realized the futility of his hopes. This patrol was much larger than the first. In addition, they were making organized forays into the woods off the path. Obviously they were conducting a structured search.  
  
Trip must have been captured, Malcolm realized. He glanced at T'Pol, seeing that she had come to the same conclusion.  
  
As they crouched on the floor, Reed's tricorder again beeped. Malcolm looked at it in disbelief. Another group of Mahdini was coming up behind them from the direction of the fourth power relay. He and T'Pol stared at each other in horror.  
  
They were trapped.  
  
##########  
  
Geerkha was enthralled. He had never known anyone like the alien—the _human_! And yet at the same time, the human—Trip, he reminded himself—seemed as ordinary as any of the neighbors in the habitation ring where he had grown up. Trip had explored so many different worlds, but his family sounded much like Geerkha's own, right down to their strict mothers!  
  
The Mahdini gazed wistfully at his friendly alien companion. Trip had seen and done more in his life so far than Geerkha would if he lived to be 200!  
  
_Still,_ Geerkha pondered doubtfully, _his explorations have brought him here—to an uncertain fate._  
  
Trip moaned, his face buried in his arms.  
  
_Not to mention making him hideously ill!_ Geerkha thought as he observed the human's distress.  
  
The Mahdini sat quietly, waiting for his friend's latest bout with the illness to pass. He found himself staring at the human's pelt, reminded of a childhood trip to a zoological garden. There had been a stately _zagat_ lying near the bars of its enclosure. The creature's glorious golden fur had looked so soft that Geerkha decided he had to touch it. Quickly and quietly, before the keeper, his mother, or even the _zagat_ knew what he intended, Geerkha had reached through the bars to stroke the animal's fur.  
  
His mother had boxed his ears soundly and grounded him from his toys for a week. But it had been worth it!  
  
Geerkha gazed at Trip's fur. Was it as soft as the _zagat's_ had been? He stretched his hand to find out.  
  
_A little damp,_ Geerkha thought. Not surprising, considering how much the human was perspiring. But his fur was definitely as soft as the _zagat's_.  
  
The alien's startled expression at being petted was much the same as the _zagat's_ as well. Geerkha almost laughed, but then realized that he might have committed a serious breach of etiquette by touching the human's fur uninvited!  
  
Forgive me, Trip! he apologized hurriedly. It's just...no Mahdini have fur like yours, and I wanted to see what it felt like!  
  
His friend looked bemused for a moment, but then gave a weak laugh. Don't worry about it, Geerkha. Seems like you've started your career in exploration already, he chuckled. Only...humans call it hair.' On animals it's fur, on humans it's hair.  
  
Geerkha smiled at the good-natured correction, relieved that he had not offended the gentle alien.  
  
a stentorian bellow made them both jump. What in the name of the gods are you doing so close to the alien?! It could attack you!  
  
It was Mir-Dan, and he was livid with fury. Obviously he had been ordered back to the main building and didn't like it one bit. Geerkha knew the patrol leader would never have returned of his own volition.  
  
The young Mahdini leaped to his feet. Mir-Dan! I...Was the search successful? Geerkha attempted to distract his superior. He realized that explaining Trip to Mir-Dan would be difficult, if not impossible.  
  
Mir-Dan glowered for a moment, organizing his thoughts. he snapped. Two more aliens like that one! Behind him, Geerkha heard Trip draw a panicked breath. Who knows how many more are roaming the compound! Mir-Dan cried to the heavens, unaware of the affect his words had on the human.  
  
Geerkha, however, turned. Trip? You weren't alone? he tried not to sound accusatory, but he felt slightly betrayed.  
  
The human had the grace to look guilty. They're my friends, Trip pleaded. Just tryin' to free the ship.  
  
Before Geerkha could respond, Mir-Dan moved forward aggressively. Are you _talking_ to that alien? What lies has it been telling you? The patrol leader's eyes narrowed menacingly. How does it know our language?  
  
Geerkha stepped in his superior's path, trying to protect the human from Mir-Dan's ire. He doesn't. He has a little machine, see? Geerkha pointed out the communicator in Trip's right hand. It helps him understand people on different planets. Geerkha looked over his shoulder at Trip, then back at Mir-Dan. We've been talking. He's very nice. Very friendly. His people don't—  
  
What lies has it been telling you? Mir-Dan repeated. Do you think the Protectors don't know what its kind are capable of? Why do you think they warned us? Gave us the Shield? Told us to communicate only with _them_? Mir-Dan shoved Geerkha aside. It's to protect us from creatures like this one. They can't be trusted!  
  
Mir-Dan raised his light-rifle over his head and brought it down on the communicator with all his strength. Geerkha watched in horror as the little device was crushed by the blow—as were many of the bones in Trip's hand, if the sound were anything to go by.  
  
The human drew in an agonized breath but was unable to scream. Mir-Dan kicked the wrecked communicator across the floor, striking Trip's hand again in the process. This blow finally elicited a strangled cry of pain, followed by choking sounds, and then the human was vomiting again, all over Mir-Dan's feet.  
  
The patrol leader leaped back in disgust and fear, stamping his feet to remove the mess before whirling on Geerkha. Get out! he roared. You obviously can't be trusted to do the job right! When his subordinate hesitated, Mir-Dan bellowed again. Get out _now_, Geerkha!  
  
The young Mahdini gave the human one last look and ran from the room.  
  
##########  
  
However vile he felt, Trip was quite proud of his last regurgitative feat. Not only had his stomach not been as empty as he had thought, he had also managed to deposit the mess on the shoes of the bastard who had just turned his right hand into a maraca.  
  
His actions had the added benefit of encouraging the vicious prick to keep his distance. Trip suspected that the Mahdini would enjoy giving him a few more whacks with the rifle, but he didn't want to chance getting puked on again.  
  
_Every cloud has a silver lining,_ Trip thought. _Now if I could only get the son of a bitch near enough to plug him with my phaser!_  
  
Trip hadn't even considered using the phaser on Geerkha. The kid was just too sweet. But this guy? In a minute! And now he had the added pressure of needing to do something to help Malcolm and T'Pol.  
  
The engineer raised his head from his forearms and looked slowly around the room, taking in the details as thoroughly as he could through his blurry eyes. This was the Mahdini central command. There had to be _something_ here that he could mess with that would help their cause. Finally, his engineer's eye spotted what he would swear was a generator of some kind. If he could use his phaser on that, it would surely cause a power outage. It wasn't much, but it should create some confusion that might give their mission a fighting chance.  
  
Trip eyed the Mahdini who was pacing and muttering to himself. Mir-Dan, Geerkha had called him. He doubted the man would kill him, but he might use the rifle butt again. Still, he'd have to get close to do that. Trip reached into his jumpsuit pocket with his functioning hand and palmed the phaser he had hidden there. Then he took a deep breath and began to crawl toward the generator.  
  
It took Mir-Dan nearly a minute to realize that his prisoner had an agenda other than lying on the floor moaning. He barked angrily at Trip, gesturing wildly, but did not move from his position.  
  
_You sure don't wanna get puked on again, do you?_ Trip thought vindictively as he continued to crawl towards his objective. _Hah!_  
  
Now Mir-Dan took several steps towards Trip, yelled, advanced a few more paces, and yelled again.  
  
_Fuck you, Charley,_ Trip quipped silently. _Can't tell what you're sayin'. Shouldn't have busted that UT._  
  
Finally Mir-Dan's impatience overcame his fear. He stomped across the room and grabbed the human by the ankle, intending to drag him back to his original spot. Trip yelped and rolled onto his back, raising both arms as if to shield his head from a blow. Mir-Dan's torso was less than a meter from his outstretched arms. Even with his fried brain, he couldn't miss at this distance.  
  
Trip leveled the phaser and fired. The Mahdini toppled backward like a fallen tree.  
  
Trip immediately rolled back onto his stomach to resume crawling, but he had to take a moment to focus on the generator, breathing deeply to dispel the nausea. Then he crawled.  
  
And crawled. And crawled. And crawled.  
  
It hadn't seemed this far from the other side of the room! Apparently his depth perception was as screwed up as most of his other brain functions. Trip gritted his teeth and continued the interminable journey. Finally, his outstretched hand made contact with the generator.  
  
The engineer dropped his head, gasping in relief, but he allowed himself only a moment to regroup before moving on to find and remove the access panel. Where the fuck was it? Oh, here. After much pounding, yanking, and swearing, he finally managed to remove it. He quickly surveyed the grid, trying to identify the most vulnerable spot. As soon as he settled on a target, he primed the phaser to maximum, leveled it, and fired.  
  
Once again, however, his depth perception proved faulty. The generator grid blew up in a shower of sparks and flames. His left hand was too close to the fireworks to avoid damage. Trip, of course, did not realize this until it was too late. All he knew was that there was a flash of light, the phaser went flying across the room, and he was screaming like a teenage girl, whacking his left arm against the floor to put out the flames.  
  
He didn't even notice that all the lights in the complex had gone out.  
  
##########  
  
Sub-Commander T'Pol and Lieutenant Malcolm Reed sat on the forest floor surrounded by innumerable agitated Mahdini. Once their superior numbers had become clear, T'Pol made the decision that they would not resist. It proved to be a good move, as the Mahdini were obviously fearful and trigger-happy.  
  
And not a one of them had the faintest idea what to do with their captives. In fact, they seemed to have no wish to come anywhere near the human and the Vulcan. Reed had holstered his phaser, T'Pol had pocketed her tricorder, and the two of them had been left alone. Though they were surrounded by Mahdini, none of their captors seemed willing to come within three meters of them.  
  
Any ideas, Sub-Commander? Malcolm asked.  
  
Not at the moment, T'Pol responded, surveying their captors. Their numbers are too great. Any escape attempt would most likely result in severe injuries, if not death.  
  
Reed grimaced at the pessimistic but accurate assessment. It seems our only option is to wait and see what happens, he conceded.  
  
T'Pol continued to scan the area. Malcolm suspected that he knew what was on her mind.  
  
Do you think Trip's okay? he asked.  
  
T'Pol gave him a wary look. It is useless to speculate, she stated in her most distant, Vulcan manner. Chastised, Malcolm shut up, hugging his knees and looking at the ground. After several moments of silence, however, T'Pol appeared to soften. Do you truly believe that he is intimidated by me?  
  
The abrupt change of tone and subject nearly gave Malcolm whiplash. Where had _that_ come from? Was this deathbed confession brand openness? And when had he become the confessor of choice for angsty Vulcans?  
  
The Armory Officer shook his head, both at the confusing situation and at his inability to answer her question. I don't know, T'Pol, he responded truthfully.  
  
Perhaps that is the reason he turned to Lieutenant Sato, T'Pol reflected morbidly. He finds her less...intimidating.  
  
For some completely irrational reason that he would never be able to explain, Malcolm took exception to her assumption about Trip and Hoshi. You _believe_ the rumors that they are having an affair?  
  
She looked askance at his condemning tone. Do not you believe the same thing?  
  
I do not _want_ to believe it, he waffled. That was true enough.  
  
T'Pol sighed. All the evidence suggests otherwise. It is the logical assumption.  
  
Unaccountably, Malcolm found himself paraphrasing Hoshi's response to his own presuppositions. Well, Sub-Commander, you know what they say about people who assume things.  
  
The Vulcan turned to him, raising an eyebrow. Apparently, she did not know.  
  
Malcolm attempted to explain the play on words. They put an ass...I mean, you—no, it puts an ass in front of...I...oh, never mind.  
  
Reed sighed and sank his head into his palm, wishing that he could wake up from this incredibly bad dream.  
  
##########  
  
Trip lay on his side, limp and lifeless after another bout of dry heaves. He was completely spent physically, and his brain was wandering. The pain in both hands had subsided to a dull throbbing, which didn't exactly feel good, but at least it was bearable.  
  
But his aching head rested on the access panel, which was nice and cool.  
  
Nice and cool.  
  
_Alien access panel,_ he crooned to it, _you are my only friend. Thank you for being cool on my head, alien access panel._  
  
He chanted this mantra to himself several times when a noise at the far end of the room distracted him. Trip pressed his face harder into the cool access panel, fearing that they might take it away from him. Dimly he heard whispered voices coming nearer.  
  
_No,_ he thought fiercely. _I won't leave my access panel. You can't make me._  
  
Now the voices were directly above him. They were talking about him. And he was shocked to realize that he understood what they were saying!  
  
one voice said in surprise.   
  
_A human,_ Trip translated in wonder. _From Starfleet._  
  
He opened his eyes to find two Vulcans—a male and a female—staring down at him.  
  
Trip stared back, amazed. His addled brain could come up with only one conclusion.  
  
_T'Luki and Sonok have come to rescue me._


	11. Chapter 11

**Miscommunication  
  
by Ragua  
**  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.  
  
A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute  
  
  
Thanks to Peter Simon for doing beta honors.  
  
**Chapter 11**  
  
Trip's first thought as he stared at the two Vulcans was that T'Luki was way too old for Sonok. _A Vulcan cradle-robber!_ he marveled, gazing dizzily at the silver-haired woman. Sonok appeared closer to middle-age, while T'Luki was definitely an elder.  
  
Then he frowned. Maybe T'Luki was Sonok's mom. The lessons never specifically said that the two were married. Only that they worked, worked, worked all the livelong day.  
  
_Poor Sonok,_ Trip sympathized. _He'll never get a woman, still living with Mom at his age._  
  
At this point, he realized that the Vulcans were likewise contemplating him. Only they were doing so aloud. In Vulcan.  
  
Could this mean that the humans have come to our aid?  
  
It is possible. But why send only one man?  
  
Perhaps their ship was also disabled, and he was sent to the surface in an escape pod, as we were.  
  
At first, Trip wanted to tell them how rude it was to speak about him as if he wasn't there. But following their conversation slowly led the engineer back to reality.  
  
Obviously they weren't T'Luki and Sonok. They were from the _Karil_. Somehow the Vulcan ship had managed to send them here on a mission similar to his own. And they weren't speaking to him because they assumed he wouldn't understand. The male Vulcan was definitely holding the destroyed communicator in his hand.  
  
He's obviously been injured.  
  
But not before completing his task. The male Vulcan gestured toward the generator.  
  
The female Vulcan frowned. This generator does not power the weapon. It is unlikely to help free our ship.  
  
Trip didn't like the implication that he wasn't intelligent enough to figure that out. Generator help...no, he whispered in Vulcan and was rewarded as stunned expressions came over their stoic faces.  
  
_Zhel-lan_ Tucker, Trip introduced himself. _Mishek feihan. Yel-hali_ Enterprise.  
  
You speak Vulcan?  
  
Some words. I study. Trip hoped they would understand that this meant they would have to speak slowly. _Enterprise_ finds Kras. We come to help _Karil_.  
  
Your ship located our Science Officer and is here to free our vessel? not-Sonok translated.  
  
Trip managed a nod. Team here. Disable power...gizmos. Five gizmos.  
  
__ The woman who wasn't T'Luki supplied the correct phrase.  
  
Power relays, yes.  
  
But you were captured?  
  
Injured. I to stay. Team to finish disable gizmos...power relays.  
  
You were injured, so your colleagues left you behind in order to finish the mission, Sonok repeated, wanting to make sure he understood.  
  
Trip frowned. Was the Vulcan condemning his friends' decision? _Spunau bolayalar t'Wehku bolayalar t'Zamu il t'Veh!_ he explained, deciding that a little Surak might convince the man to keep his judgments to himself.  
  
Both Vulcans sat up a bit straighter. With Vulcans, quoting Surak was better than Open Sesame! and combined. It certainly got them to shut up and listen. Trip took advantage of their respectful silence.  
  
More bad. Colleagues captured. I hear. Trip gestured toward Mir-Dan's unconscious form. Need help. Finish mission. Please to help?  
  
Of course, Commander. T'Luki nodded briskly. Can you tell us where they might be found?  
  
Trip drooped. He had no idea where they were! But they had to have been captured somewhere between the third and fifth relay stations. How could he explain that?  
  
Disabled two gizmos. Then hurt. Team continues, he stumbled along, hoping his words made sense. Start south. Move north. Team north?  
  
You began to disable the relays in the south, therefore your team should be somewhere north of the second power relay? Sonok guessed.  
  
Trip smiled. Damn! Either he was making more sense than he thought, or Vulcans were as smart as they were always claiming to be.  
  
Will they also be able to understand us? T'Luki queried.  
  
Yes. Universal Translator. Trip smiled again, adding, And Sub-Commander T'Pol.  
  
T'Luki raised an eyebrow, apparently intrigued by the addendum to his response.  
  
Trip didn't like that raised eyebrow. He tried to distract her. Please to help? he repeated. Hurry fast!  
  
The Vulcans exchanged a look and T'Luki responded for both. Yes, Commander, we will go. She paused. And you?  
  
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one, Trip repeated. I stay here.  
  
The Vulcans exchanged another look, and then T'Luki turned to him again.  
  
_Dif-tor heh smusma, osu Tucker,_ she bade him farewell solemnly. Sonok echoed her formal leave-taking.  
  
Peace and long life, Trip gave the proper response, even though he didn't think he'd be living for very long _or_ prospering in the near future. The Vulcan woman gazed intently into his face and then to Trip's utter surprise, touched his forehead gently. Before he could react, she and Sonok were gone.  
  
_Wow!_ he thought, amazed that a strange Vulcan had made physical contact with him. _And did she just call me honorable?'_  
  
The world _must_ be coming to an end. He'd apparently just made a good first impression on a Vulcan!  
  
He closed his eyes and sighed. Too bad it would probably be a last impression.  
  
##########  
  
Jonathan Archer couldn't deny it. Forty-two minutes were up.  
  
Lieutenant, contact the away team, he ordered.  
  
Hoshi complied with alacrity, and the bridge sat in tense silence as they waited for a response.  
  
None came.  
  
The captain nodded at his Communications Officer to try again. Once again, there was no answer to the hail.  
  
Try the _Karil_ one more time, Archer ordered.  
  
A third silence told the captain that they were out of options.  
  
##########  
  
Malcolm and T'Pol sat up rigidly scarcely daring to breathe. Though the communicator signal was muffled from its location in Reed's jumpsuit pocket, nearly every Mahdini ear in the vicinity had pricked up at the sound. The second alert signal had focused all eyes and ears on the captives.  
  
From its hiding place, the Universal Translator on the communicator could not function properly, but Reed could understand enough of what the Mahdini were saying to become increasingly nervous.  
  
...that noise?  
  
...definitely...the aliens.  
  
  
  
...they haven't...  
  
...preparing to...  
  
  
  
Now all Mahdini weapons were trained on the _Enterprise_ officers. Reed glanced sidewise at his Vulcan companion.  
  
Sit perfectly still. Say nothing, T'Pol murmured. We do not wish to provoke them any further.  
  
A sudden cry from the rear of the Mahdini contingent made everyone jump, but by some miracle, none of the nervous guardsmen fired. An underling ran up, seeking a superior.  
  
T'Pol and Reed watched as the messenger and a Mahdini officer exchanged information. It involved a great deal of arm-waving, pointing, frightened looks, and head-shaking. Again the UT only managed to pick up a few words, none of which were reassuring.  
  
From what Malcolm could deduce, something unpleasant had occurred elsewhere, and the messenger had been sent to collect reinforcements. The officer pointed at Reed and T'Pol several times during the argument, apparently unwilling to give up the manpower he felt he needed to guard them.  
  
The messenger, however, must have had some clout, because in the end, the officer barked an order and half the Mahdini surrounding them marched off. Malcolm and T'Pol eyed each other. The odds were still daunting, but an opportunity like this could not be ignored. T'Pol gave an almost imperceptible nod.  
  
Reed slowly moved his hand to the pocket where he had secured his weapon. Beside him, he felt T'Pol do the same.  
  
How soon? he whispered to her.  
  
We will wait until we are sure the others are out of earshot. Perhaps ten minutes, to be safe.  
  
_Ten minutes!_ Malcolm agonized, gently sliding the phaser out of its hiding place. _That's a bloody long time.  
  
_##########  
  
The captain raised his eyes to his Acting Science Officer. Kras, are you getting anything from the planet?  
  
Negative, Captain, the Vulcan responded. There is no way to tell whether the mission was successful or not.  
  
Since the away team hasn't answered us, Archer stated, we're going to have to assume it was not successful.  
  
Hoshi protested. There are any number of reasons why they might not be able to respond. It doesn't necessarily mean the mission failed!  
  
I know that, Lieutenant. We'll hope for the best, the captain replied. Then he grimaced. But we have to prepare for the worst.  
  
Then he turned to _Enterprise's_ helmsman. Okay, Travis, set a course for the _Karil_.  
  
##########  
  
Only five of the ten minutes had passed when Reed felt T'Pol stiffen sharply. He glanced at her, and she nodded slowly towards the trees behind their guards where a figure moving silently.  
  
_Trip!_ Malcolm thought, elated. His heart leaped in hope, but then he caught a glimpse of jet black hair. Before disappointment could set in, the realization that the figure had _hair_ caused his spirits to lift again.  
  
Before he knew what had happened, two of the Mahdini guards slumped forward, unconscious. Several others turned at the sound and suddenly the air was full of phaser fire. Malcolm threw himself to the left, firing at those Mahdini still on their feet. He was vaguely aware that T'Pol was doing the same thing off to his right.  
  
Shortly, the forest was littered with unconscious Mahdini. T'Pol stood quickly, calling out in Vulcan. A voice answered her from the trees, and then two Vulcans emerged from the woods.  
  
Malcolm hurriedly retrieved the communicator from his pocket so he could understand the conversation taking place between his Science Officer and their newfound allies. The UT sputtered for a moment, as if confused about the switch from Mahdini to Vulcan, then magically leaped into action.  
  
...told us of your mission, the female Vulcan was saying. How many of the power relays have you disabled thus far?  
  
T'Pol responded. She brought her tricorder from her pocket and consulted it. And we are less than half a kilometer from the fifth relay.  
  
Your progress is most impressive, the male Vulcan stated. We will do whatever is necessary to assist you in completing your mission.  
  
Your assistance has already proven most advantageous, T'Pol replied, gesturing to the fallen Mahdini. She then turned to Reed. Lieutenant Reed is _Enterprise's_ Tactical Officer. Second Engineer T'Run and Deputy Science Officer Solkar were sent in an escape pod from the _Karil_. Their mission is the same as ours.  
  
Unfortunately, it took us several days to reach the weapons complex, Solkar added. Vulcan escape pods are not maneuverable enough to ensure arrival at a specific location.  
  
Reed nodded in understanding and immediately got back on task, scanning the forest in the direction of the fifth relay. It was lucky that you happened upon us when you did! he said as he scanned. The way looks clear, Sub-Commander.  
  
It was not luck, T'Run corrected. Your Commander Tucker provided surprisingly accurate directions, considering his condition.  
  
Malcolm stopped scanning and gaped at her. T'Pol, realizing that the human had missed the first part of her conversation with her fellow Vulcans, explained.  
  
T'Run and Solkar came across the commander at the main building of the weapons complex. Apparently he was discovered by the Mahdini and taken to their headquarters.  
  
And you _left_ him there?! Malcolm demanded, appalled.  
  
The Vulcans from the _Karil_ exchanged puzzled looks. He told us of the importance of your mission and that you had been captured. He requested that we assist you, Solkar responded. It was, of course, the logical action.  
  
Malcolm turned his eyes to T'Pol for support of some kind, but she silenced him with her stoic Vulcan mask. As I have told you before, Lieutenant, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. She paused. Or the one. Commander Tucker understood this.  
  
I understand it, too, Sub-Commander, Reed hissed between gritted teeth. But that doesn't mean that I like it.  
  
T'Pol's mask wavered. Nor do I, Lieutenant, she said softly.  
  
Reed turned away. We should get moving. We don't have much time. He took point, striding briskly away without looking to see if any of the Vulcans were following him.  
  
##########  
  
_Enterprise_ moved slowly and cautiously toward the crippled Vulcan ship. Tension on the bridge grew at the same rate as the size of the _Karil_ on the view screen.  
  
Archer ran over his plan with the crew. We'll secure it with the grappler and pull it from orbit.  
  
We'll be sitting ducks, sir, Mayweather commented.  
  
I know, Travis, but the only other option is docking with the _Karil_, Archer responded. That leaves us even more vulnerable. At least with the grappler, both ships will be moving. However slow, as moving targets we'll be harder to hit.  
  
Aye, sir, the helmsman agreed, somewhat dubiously.  
  
Just be ready for evasive maneuvers, Archer told him.  
  
##########  
  
Malcolm led his party through the forest at a rapid pace. Everything the Vulcans had said about the needs of the many was true, but he was still furious. Maybe because they were right. Maybe because there was an increasingly distinct possibility that he might never get to make it up with his friend.  
  
The Armory Officer ground his teeth in frustration. Behind him, he heard T'Pol query the other Vulcans.  
  
What was the commander's condition when you encountered him? she asked.  
  
Initially, he was semiconscious. He seemed extremely ill and feverish. And both of his hands appeared to be injured, Solkar stated after a brief pause. The right was swollen excessively, while he appeared to have suffered burns of some kind on the left.  
  
Most likely when he blew up the generator with his phaser, T'Run added. When both T'Pol and Malcolm turned startled looks on her, she continued. I surmise, of course. The generator had been destroyed, the overloaded phaser was across the room, and Commander Tucker was resting on the access panel when we arrived. I regret that I did not have the opportunity to learn the exact details of what occurred.  
  
The Armory Officer slowed his pace a bit, frowning. That must have been what the messenger was jawing about, he told T'Pol. That's why half the Mahdini guarding us took off so suddenly. The thought of Trip managing to help them despite his injury, when they had abandoned him, infuriated Malcolm anew. He picked the pace up again.  
  
They traveled in silence for a while, and then T'Run spoke again. I really must commend you, Sub-Commander, she said, on your instruction.  
  
I beg your pardon? T'Pol was perplexed.  
  
Commander Tucker's vocabulary was quite extensive. How long has he been studying Vulcan?  
  
This time the prolonged silence was charged. Malcolm could tell that T'Pol was extremely disturbed by the question. He slowed his pace to a crawl—mission be damned!—so that he could follow the conversation.  
  
Eventually T'Pol found her voice. The commander spoke to you in Vulcan? We left him with a communicator. All Starfleet communicators are equipped with the Universal Translator.  
  
You needn't be concerned, Sub-Commander, T'Run misinterpreted the reason for T'Pol's evasion. Your student did not shame you or himself. For an obvious beginner, he was most proficient in our language.  
  
His fluency was quite fortuitous, in fact, Solkar added. The translator had been destroyed. We found it across the room from Commander Tucker when we first arrived in the command center.  
  
T'Pol did not respond, and the party continued to move on in silence. Malcolm felt a knife of dread touch his guts. Why should something as innocent as Trip learning Vulcan generate such a sense of foreboding? The atmosphere was extremely uncomfortable by the time the Science Officer spoke again.  
  
Forgive me, she said. As much as I would like to accept your commendation of my teaching skills, Commander Tucker has not been studying Vulcan with me.  
  
This confused T'Run. But I understood that you were the only Vulcan on _Enterprise_. The only Vulcan on any human vessel, for that matter.  
  
Solkar was also puzzled. From whom else could the commander learn our language, if not you? he asked.  
  
Enlightenment came suddenly and painfully, forcing Malcolm to enter the conversation. I suspect that he was receiving lessons from our Communications Officer, Lieutenant Sato, he said, casting an aggrieved look over his shoulder at T'Pol. She is extremely proficient in languages, he added brusquely, speeding up again.  
  
It is extremely illogical to learn our language from a human, when a Vulcan is available to teach it, T'Run commented after taking a moment to digest Reed's information.  
  
It would explain the strange accent, though, Solkar muttered.  
  
##########  
  
Trip crouched in a corner of the Mahdini control center retching unproductively, to the obvious disgust of his guard. The engineer had been hovering in a netherworld of nausea and delirium when he had been yanked roughly away from the cool access panel. His whimper of protest earned him a kick in the ribs, which had in turn brought on a new bout of dry heaves.  
  
The Mahdini had returned to the building, and they were angry. He had no idea what they were saying, but he didn't need a UT to know that it was nothing complimentary about his species.  
  
Several congregated around the fallen form of Mir-Dan, jabbering worriedly. Others began to attempt repairs of the generator. One had apparently been assigned to stand guard over the alien. Whether his orders required him to glower at his prisoner and poke him periodically with the rifle, Trip was unsure.  
  
_But he's doin' a great job of it,_ the engineer thought sourly, wincing at another jab in his shoulder. He watched the progress of the repair team working on the generator with vague concern.  
  
_Take your time, guys,_ he coached silently. _Slow and easy. Give all the humans and Vulcans a chance to blow this popsicle stand._  
  
The Mahdini guard jabbed him again.  
  
the engineer swore aloud.  
  
The guard stepped back hastily, obviously believing the Vulcan word was a prelude to more regurgitation. Trip allowed himself a weak smile, enjoying the sight of his enemy retreating.  
  
_Gotta tell Malcolm when I see im,_ he mused with black humor. _Great potential as a defensive weapon.  
  
Kinda messy, though._  
  
##########  
  
Ensign Mayweather released his breath slowly. _Enterprise_ had secured the _Karil_ with the grappler. It was now up to him to pilot both ships away from Modinok. While dodging hostile alien energy beams, of course.  
  
_All in a day's work,_ Travis told himself. _But I sure better get a commendation of some sort if I pull this off._  
  
One quarter impulse, the captain said quietly, looming like a gargoyle somewhere over the ensign's right shoulder.  
  
The helmsman's fingers danced over the console, and the ship swung gracefully away from the planet. There was a brief hesitation as the grappler line grew taut, then _Enterprise_ picked up momentum and slowly towed the Vulcan ship away from Modinok's orbit.  
  
Travis did not allow himself to relax. His hands hovered over the controls, ready to send the ship into evasive maneuvers at a moment's notice, should the Mahdini fire their weapon at _Enterprise_.  
  
But nothing happened.  
  
The captain was unwilling to relax. Get us back to our hiding spot, Travis, he ordered tersely.  
  
the helmsman responded, somewhat disappointed at losing the chance to display his finesse.  
  
_I could've dodged that energy weapon,_ he thought sulkily.  
  
##########  
  
Malcolm Reed controlled his urge to do a victory dance, complete with war whoop. T'Pol had just disabled the fifth power relay. Their mission was complete. He scanned the exterior of the building mechanically, his mind leaping ahead to his next course of action.  
  
No Mahdini in the vicinity, Sub-Commander, he announced, as the Vulcans all moved in his direction.  
  
T'Pol nodded, flipping open her communicator. T'Pol to _Enterprise_. There was a moment's delay. Malcolm held his breath. Had _Enterprise_ been crippled by the Mahdini weapon as well?  
  
Finally, Hoshi's voice responded. _Enterprise_ here. Go ahead, Sub-Commander.  
  
We have disabled all five power relays. It is safe to proceed with the plan to free the _Karil_, T'Pol stated formally.  
  
Way ahead of you, Sub-Commander. The captain's voice replaced Hoshi's. We've got the _Karil_ in tow, and we're trying to get her ready to go to warp.  
  
Is there some concern? T'Pol asked.  
  
Only if you consider three alien vessels speeding towards this system something to be concerned about, Archer replied. Discretion is the better part of valor, so I'd say we need to exercise some serious discretion and get the hell out of here as soon as possible.  
  
Understood, Captain. We will proceed back to Shuttlepod One immediately, T'Pol acknowledged.  
  
Don't take too long, the captain warned.  
  
T'Pol nodded, despite the fact that Archer couldn't see her. T'Pol out. She turned to Reed and fired him a challenging look. Obviously, time is of the essence.  
  
The Armory Officer understood completely. I won't waste any, then, he responded to the Science Officer's unspoken command.  
  
Thirty minutes, T'Pol stated.  
  
Malcolm echoed her response to the captain.  
  
T'Run and Solkar had been monitoring the cryptic conversation between the _Enterprise_ officers as if it had been a Ping-Pong match. The two seemed to be speaking in a kind of shorthand.  
  
T'Pol turned to them. I will take you to our shuttle. Lieutenant Reed has one more task. He will join us as soon as he is able, she explained.  
  
If this task involves collecting Commander Tucker, I would like to offer my assistance, Solkar—very quick on the uptake—volunteered.  
  
T'Pol and Reed exchanged a look. Malcolm accepted the offer with Vulcan-like practicality. Appreciated. Let's go. Solkar nodded, and the two men set off in the direction of the main weapons complex.


	12. Chapter 12

**Miscommunication  
  
by Ragua  
**  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.  
  
A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute  
  
  
Thanks to Peter Simon for doing beta honors.  
  
**Chapter 12**  
  
Jonathan Archer was growing more frustrated by the moment. According to all the engineers—Vulcan and human—getting the _Karil's_ warp drive online would take days. And the two crews had only a few hours, at most. According to Kras, the approaching ships were capable of at least Warp 5.  
  
_We're going to need as big a head start as we can get,_ Archer realized.  
  
he spoke up, coming to a decision. Put me through to Captain Kovek.  
  
This is Kovek. The voice of the Vulcan captain—the _Karil's_ communications were still down—came from a Starfleet communicator channel.  
  
Captain, my engineers tell me that there is no way the _Karil_ will have warp power before those alien ships get here. Archer wasted no time beating around the bush.  
  
My engineers have come to the same conclusion, Kovek agreed readily, perhaps suspecting where the human captain was heading.  
  
I would advise evacuating all your people to _Enterprise_, Archer stated. It will be a tight fit, but it's the only way we'll have a chance at avoiding a confrontation with whoever built that weapon.  
  
There was silence as Kovek contemplated his options, coming to the same conclusion as the human captain: there were none.  
  
he finally acquiesced. I will make the necessary arrangements here. Kovek out.  
  
Archer spoke to his Acting Science Officer, who had steadfastly remained at his station. Can you take care of the arrangements on our end?  
  
The elderly Vulcan nodded, but then spoke up. I would make a suggestion, Captain Archer.  
  
Go ahead.  
  
I would advocate setting the _Karil_ to self-destruct before we leave this system.  
  
Archer blinked. He guessed he shouldn't be surprised. It was the logical thing to do. The destruction of the _Karil_ would prevent Vulcan technology from falling into unknown hands, and it would probably buy _Enterprise_ some time as she made her escape.  
  
Very logical, Archer complimented Kras. I will forward your suggestion to Captain Kovek.  
  
Kras bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment and left the bridge to welcome his people aboard the human vessel.  
  
##########  
  
T'Pol and T'Run worked together, preparing Shuttlepod One for a quick exit from Modinok. The two Vulcans completed the necessary tasks in efficient, companionable silence.  
  
T'Pol had to work to focus. Her mind had been in turmoil from the moment she had learned of the secret Commander Tucker had been keeping from her. Everything seemed so clear in retrospect, so obvious. How could she not have realized the truth? She knew inherently that he had gone to Lieutenant Sato to learn Vulcan because he had wanted to surprise her. He had planned it as a sort of gift to her.  
  
And she had accused him of improper behavior.  
  
You seem to have a productive working relationship with the humans on your vessel. T'Run's comment took the Science Officer by surprise.  
  
T'Pol responded curtly, trying to discourage further questions.  
  
Your communication with Lieutenant Reed is most efficient, the older woman continued, oblivious to T'Pol's distress. The success of your mission, particularly in light of the obstacles present, is most impressive.  
  
Our mission will not be successful until both the _Karil_ and _Enterprise_ are safely out of this system. T'Pol hoped her refusal to accept the compliment would end the conversation.  
  
Again T'Run refused to take the hint.  
  
Commander Tucker's effort to learn our language indicates that the humans respect you a great deal, she went on. T'Pol curbed an extremely un-Vulcanlike urge to silence her elder with a nerve pinch. Although I still do not understand why he would choose to learn from a human rather than a Vulcan. T'Run's brow furrowed as she attempted to make sense of the strange behavior.  
  
I have been told that humans sometimes find Vulcans intimidating, T'Pol heard herself say. Perhaps Mr. Tucker felt more comfortable learning our language from a fellow human.  
  
T'Run did not appear convinced. But it is most illogical.  
  
Commander Tucker _is_ one of the more illogical humans that I have encountered, T'Pol conceded.  
  
Then it is well that he is also studying the teachings of Surak, T'Run decided.  
  
T'Pol turned away, fearful that the pain caused by T'Run's innocent statement would be evident on her face.  
  
##########  
  
Malcolm and Solkar crouched in the hallway outside the main control center. Their task thus far had been suspiciously easy. They had come upon Mahdini guards in ones and twos, and the Vulcan had easily dispatched them.  
  
_When we return to Enterprise,_ Malcolm thought, eyeing Solkar jealously, _I really _must_ get T'Pol to teach me that neck pinch thing._  
  
The Vulcan, ignorant of his companion's covetous thoughts, was surveilling the Mahdini control room. He turned to Reed, flashing fingers to indicate that there were nine adversaries present. Malcolm nodded once, signaling back that they would attack on the count of three. Solkar moved silently to the other side of the entryway.  
  
Malcolm positioned himself, took a deep breath, and locked eyes with the Vulcan. He raised his hand and began the countdown.  
  
##########  
  
Commander Tucker focused all his attention on a speck on the wall opposite him. In a minute or so, he would shift his focus to another target. He had found that if he closed his eyes or kept his attention in one place for too long, he would get the spins. And the spins usually led to more retching.  
  
So he had engineered a strategy of focusing on minute details for a limited period. Once he felt the planet beneath him revolving on its axis, he would turn his attention to another subject. So far, the technique had been successful. He was quite proud of himself for discovering it.  
  
_It's the little things that make a difference,_ he congratulated himself.  
  
He had just changed his focus to the left foot of his Mahdini guard when all hell broke loose. It sounded like phaser fire. There was definitely a great deal of hollering from the Mahdini in the room. He looked up to see Mir-Dan collapse, phasered once again, but he didn't have time to derive any satisfaction from the sight.  
  
The cacophony, not to mention the swirl of color and movement overloading his field of vision, caused his head to ache and the ground to spin.  
  
_Oh no,_ he begged, _not again._  
  
##########  
  
Even before they had neutralized the last Mahdini, Malcolm Reed was charging across the control room to his convulsing friend. Trip looked and sounded for all the world like a cat horking up a hairball.  
  
He knelt by the engineer's side, tentatively placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.  
  
Commander? Trip? he whispered urgently. Are you all right?  
  
Trip raised a pasty, sweaty face to the Armory Officer and glared at him with bloodshot eyes. Dumbass question, he slurred irritably. Do I _look_ all right?  
  
Malcolm was taken aback for a moment, uncertain how to respond. Then suddenly a look of recognition came over the engineer's woozy features. Malcolm? Whatcha doin' here?  
  
Rescuing you, you stupid bastard, Reed retorted, snapping with the tension and yet nearly collapsing in relief.  
  
His testy response apparently made sense to Trip. the engineer chirped obligingly.  
  
Malcolm chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
##########  
  
Geerkha pounded along the corridors of the main weapons complex with the Senior Scientist in tow. The last few hours had not been easy for the young Mahdini. The old man had been most unhappy to be wakened in the middle of the night, and he certainly wasn't in shape for the long run from his home to headquarters. Still, Geerkha was determined to help his human friend.  
  
He hoped Trip had not been killed or turned over to the Protectors yet!  
  
The two Mahdini skidded to a halt outside the main control room. Geerkha froze in the entryway, appalled by the sight. The floor was littered with the bodies of guardsmen. At the far end of the room, another human knelt by Trip, attempting to help him rise.  
  
Geerkha felt a surge of rage and regret. He had been completely wrong about the humans. The Protectors were right. They were dangerous after all!  
  
he cried in anguish at the betrayal, alerting the other human to his presence. The alien raised what could only be a weapon toward the two Mahdini. Geerkha realized that he was about to join his comrades in death. And all because of his own gullibility.  
  
Trip's exclamation was simultaneous with the flash that emitted from the alien weapon. The beam went wide, missing Geerkha and the Senior Scientist by centimeters. A surge of hope shot through the young Mahdini, only to be quashed by his increasing fury over the betrayal.  
  
Geerkha accused, storming angrily across the room to confront the human. You said your people meant us no harm! You said you were only here to free your ship!  
  
The human looked up at him desperately. He appeared much worse than the last time Geerkha had seen him. He half-sat up, his arms awkwardly locked around those of his comrade to prevent the other human from firing a second time. the human pleaded. Not dead. Jus' stunned! Trip turned his pale gaze to the other human. Right, Malcolm? he begged. You jus' stunned em, right?  
  
The other human—Malcolm?—looked from Trip to Geerkha nodding. Its fur was darker, but its eyes were pale like Trip's. it said in a clear voice, looking the young Mahdini in the eye. Our weapons have a setting which renders an opponent unconscious. He gestured to one of the fallen Mahdini. They're just stunned, not dead.  
  
Geerkha narrowed his eyes, uncertain whether or not to trust this stranger. Trip obviously believed that the fallen guardsmen were not hurt, but could _this_ human be trusted? He could be as like Trip as Geerkha was to Mir-Dan.  
  
The Senior Scientist resolved the issue for them. He knelt among the fallen guards, checking pulses here and there. After nearly a minute of tense silence, he rose and addressed them.  
  
They are all alive, just unconscious, as the aliens claim, he announced.  
  
Geerkha turned his attention back to the humans, profoundly relieved that his trust in Trip had not been misplaced. The dark-furred human addressed him.  
  
We just want to take our friend and leave, he explained. We won't trouble you any more.  
  
Geerkha looked back to the Senior Scientist hopefully. The old man took only a moment to consider the dilemma. He then nodded solemnly.  
  
I never trusted the Protectors, he stated. Why should they wish to help us? What benefit do they derive? He shook his head. No. You must leave before they get here. I would not willingly put anyone into their hands.  
  
The dark human took only a moment to digest the words of the old Mahdini. We'll be on our way then, he replied, shifting his weight preparatory to levering Trip to his feet.  
  
That will be difficult, another voice announced calmly. Geerkha and the Senior Scientist jumped. A third alien had been hiding behind the generator!  
  
What do you mean? the dark human questioned it anxiously. Obviously this was the other friend of Trip's, Geerkha realized.  
  
There is an extremely large number of Mahdini headed down the corridor to this room.  
  
##########  
  
Captain Archer paced the bridge restlessly. Nearly all the Vulcans were off the _Karil_. Captain Kovek and Kras were supervising the transfer of any remaining technology and information that could be salvaged from the inevitable destruction of the Vulcan ship.  
  
Where the hell was the away team? Scans indicated that the shuttle had not left the planet yet! The captain decided that he couldn't be patient any longer.  
  
Hoshi, hail the away team, he snapped. The Communications Officer did so, and his Science Officer answered immediately.  
  
T'Pol here.  
  
Sub-Commander, I thought I told you that we didn't have a lot of time. Archer got straight to the point.  
  
Yes, captain, but we have not yet completed our mission, came T'Pol's calm response.  
  
You told me that you had disabled all the relays!  
  
That is true, Captain, the Vulcan answered. But in doing so, Commander Tucker was injured and later captured as a result of his injury.  
  
Archer gaped at the unexpected news, while T'Pol went on. Lieutenant Reed and Solkar are currently engaged in a mission to retrieve the commander. I allotted them an hour in which to complete the task, 35 minutes of which have passed. If they do not arrive within the next 25 minutes, T'Run and I will return without them.  
  
The captain didn't know which piece of information to address first. T'Pol, what the hell...you never...why didn't you—  
  
T'Pol interrupted, I would like to keep this frequency open in case Lieutenant Reed attempts to contact me. And before Archer could respond, the Vulcan cut the communications with a brusque, T'Pol out.  
  
Archer and Hoshi stared at each other.  
  
Who the hell are Solkar and T'Run? the captain demanded.  
  
Hoshi shook her head and shrugged.  
  
##########  
  
T'Run eyed the younger Vulcan speculatively. When T'Pol noticed her elder's regard, she raised an eyebrow in inquiry.  
  
Did you not tell Lieutenant Reed that he had only 30 minutes in which to retrieve Commander Tucker? T'Run asked.  
  
  
  
And yet you told your captain that you had allotted Mr. Reed an hour.  
  
  
  
T'Run continued to regard T'Pol with interest. T'Pol returned the stare in a manner that was both bland and yet challenging. The older woman eventually accepted that no explanation was forthcoming.  
  
T'Run said.  
  
##########  
  
Mahdini and aliens stared at each other in consternation at Solkar's words. Though the youngest there, Geerkha was the first to react.  
  
he ordered, startling the dark-furred human by pointing at him. Hide with your friend. They will expect Trip's presence in the control room. The other human hesitated only a moment before lowering Trip to the ground and scrambling behind the generator with the third alien.  
  
The sound of pounding feet was now audible and was definitely coming closer. Geerkha shared a look with the Senior Scientist, who seemed to have no idea what to do. The young Mahdini gulped and strode toward the entryway. He had only taken several steps when the first of a large contingent of guardsmen rounded the corner.  
  
he called loudly, raising both hands so there could be no confusion as to his message. The guards in the forefront did so, surprising those in the rear, who cursed loudly and angrily as they collided with the leaders.  
  
Geerkha took a deep breath and continued. The alien contagion has spread! he announced, waving his hands dramatically to the unconscious guards scattered about the control room. Already it has felled many of our number!  
  
The incoming guardsmen gasped in fear and edged back from the entryway. Elated that his plan was working, Geerkha went on in an ominous voice. The Senior Scientist and I are already contaminated. We will stay with the alien until the Protectors arrive. The rest of you must leave the main complex immediately to avoid infection.  
  
The Senior Scientist, once he realized Geerkha's plan, proved a valuable asset. Who is in charge here? he demanded. A guardsman several paces behind the others fearfully raised a hand. You will contact all other guardsmen and scientists in the complex. Tell them to return to their homes until summoned. Once the Protectors arrive, they will provide us with a cure. Then it will be safe for you all to return.  
  
A tense silence held for a moment as the Mahdini took in the message. The Senior Scientist glanced at Geerkha, momentarily concerned by the lack of movement. He barked again. You will be contacted once it is safe to return. Go, quickly!  
  
There was a mad scramble and within seconds every Mahdini outside the control room had disappeared.  
  
The Mahdini inside the control room both released sighs of relief and then turned to their alien visitors. enthused the one called Malcolm, as he and Geerkha moved to crouch at Trip's side. Absolutely brilliant!  
  
Your way should be clear now, the Senior Scientist understated modestly.  
  
The other alien, who Geerkha now noticed was a bit different from the humans, held a device in his hand and pointed it in the direction of the departed guardsmen. he responded after consulting the little machine. I would suggest, Lieutenant, that we do not delay.  
  
said the dark-furred human next to Geerkha. He looked at the young Mahdini. Thank you.  
  
Geerkha smiled. Trip is my friend, he responded, embarrassed by the alien's gratitude. Will you be well, Trip?  
  
The pale human returned the smile wearily, looking even more ghastly in doing so. Be great, Geerkha. Thanks. For ev'rything. His grimace when Malcolm tried to help him to his feet belied the words. Trip wobbled on his knees in the smaller human's grasp, and Geerkha began to wonder how they would escape with Trip so obviously unable to move.  
  
Suddenly a hand reached past him and gave Trip a pinch where his neck met his shoulders. The human slumped to the floor. Both Geerkha and Malcolm looked up at the pointy-earred alien, shocked.  
  
Commander Tucker will be far more comfortable if he is unconscious during our escape, the alien stated in a monotone. He then hoisted the limp figure onto his shoulder with ease and stepped back, looking at Malcolm expectantly.  
  
The dark-furred human blinked, then stood up, still staring at the other alien. he finally agreed with the assessment. He turned his attention to Geerkha and the Senior Scientist. Thank you again.  
  
The pointy-earred alien raised a hand toward them with his fingers spread in a V—an apparent gesture of farewell. Live long and prosper, Geerkha, Senior Scientist, it intoned.  
  
The two Mahdini flicked their ears forward, bowing their heads slightly in the traditional gesture of parting. The aliens nodded back and then hastened toward the exit.  
  
Geerkha cried after a moment. The aliens paused in the entryway, looking back curiously. Tell Trip I was glad to know him and...goodbye! Then he looked at the ground, feeling like a foolish child.  
  
Of course! said the other human. Geerkha looked back up. The human was smiling kindly. He nodded at the Mahdini, and Geerkha nodded back.  
  
Then the aliens were gone.  
  
##########  
  
The flight through the Mahdini forest to Shuttlepod One was a nightmare for Malcolm Reed. His guilt about the completely idiotic way he had treated Trip warred with relief now that it seemed as if he would have the chance to apologize for behaving like an ass. Both feelings were replaced by anguish and panic once he realized how much more than 30 minutes the rescue mission had taken.  
  
Reed to T'Pol! he cried into his communicator, never breaking stride.  
  
T'Pol here, came the calm reply. Malcolm gasped with relief, fighting a nearly uncontrollable urge to kiss the device.  
  
We're on our way to the shuttle! he announced urgently. We have Commander Tucker.  
  
We will make ready to depart as soon as you arrive, Lieutenant, she dispelled all his worries with that simple response. T'Pol out.  
  
Malcolm grinned as he pocketed the communicator. He glanced back at Solkar who apparently had no trouble keeping up with the swift pace despite the added burden of Trip's weight.  
  
Bloody brilliant! Malcolm crowed softly, punching the air slightly as he ran.  
  
##########  
  
T'Pol opened the hatch of the shuttlepod, looking out for any sign of Lieutenant Reed. She felt T'Run's eyes on her back and hoped that ignoring the other woman's interest would deflect her curiosity.  
  
It did not.  
  
You initially told Lieutenant Reed that he had only 30 minutes to retrieve Commander Tucker, T'Run stated. You then told Captain Archer that you had allotted an hour for the rescue. She paused expectantly, but T'Pol said nothing. It has now been 75 minutes, T'Run added.  
  
And you can see how logical it was to wait, T'Pol finally countered. We will have all our colleagues safe, and we will still depart Modinok and rendezvous with _Enterprise_.  
  
You told your captain you would depart the planet within an hour, T'Run reminded. If he does not wait, there will be no ship with which to rendezvous.  
  
He will wait, T'Pol spoke with a confidence that might be unmerited. He is human.  
  
Humans do not stick to schedules? The older woman seemed more curious than shocked.  
  
Not where the safety of colleagues is concerned, T'Pol explained. They often allow...leeway...in situations such as this, in order to give all those involved a greater chance of success. T'Pol paused for a moment, knowing full well that her statement was full of holes. It is extremely illogical, but then, humans are greatly influenced by their emotions.  
  
There was a silence while T'Run digested this information. T'Pol regretted having to resort to a stereotype, but the older woman's incessant questioning was becoming irritating. _I will definitely have to meditate upon my return to Enterprise,_ she thought.  
  
T'Pol turned back to the open hatch and was rewarded with the sight of Lieutenant Reed and Solkar coming into view. She felt a moment's panic at seeing only two figures, but then realized that the Vulcan was carrying a third.  
  
_Of course,_ she tried to calm herself. _Commander Tucker is in no condition to move swiftly._  
  
I am impressed, Sub-Commander, T'Run's comment interrupted T'Pol's train of thought. You have become quite adept at interacting with these humans. And yet you maintain our ways most admirably. You are to be commended.  
  
T'Pol nodded to the other woman, acknowledging the compliment, then both moved to help their colleagues into the shuttle. Without need of words, Lieutenant Reed moved automatically to the pilot's chair, while T'Pol gathered a med kit and knelt by the unconscious engineer.  
  
As Lieutenant Reed piloted the craft away from Modinok, T'Pol pondered T'Run's compliment and realized something else.  
  
_I have also become adept at what Commander Tucker would refer to as talking out of my ass._  
  
Glancing sideways to make sure that the attention of her fellow Vulcans was elsewhere, T'Pol allowed herself a tiny smile. She would tell her _t'hai'la_ so once they had returned to _Enterprise_. He would find it most amusing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Miscommunication**

**by Ragua**

Disclaimer:Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.

A/N:All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute

Thanks to gizzi1213 for being my beta.

**Chapter 13**

Jonathan Archer ground his teeth in frustration. By all rights, _Enterprise_ should be warping the hell out of this system. Instead, they were waiting for two of the ship's senior officers who had taken it into their heads to get creative during an away mission without informing their captain.

Despite his irritation, Archer couldn't blame them for their actions. He doubted that he could have left any crew member behind, let alone Trip. Still, T'Pol should have given him some indication as to just what was going on down there!

The captain began to stalk the bridge, earning a raised eyebrow from Captain Kovek, who was present as a courtesy. Archer grimaced at the silent critique of his emotional response to the tension. Hoshi cast him a sympathetic look.

_Well, _the captain decided, _we may all die because of this, but I'll be damned if I go to my grave wondering what the hell this soap opera was all about._

Archer sidled up to the Communications Officer and tested his theory.

"How bad is he?" he asked softly.

"Sir?" Hoshi looked baffled. He'd have to get more specific.

"Trip," the captain clarified. "How bad is he at Vulcan?"

The exasperated look that came over the linguist's face told the captain that he had scored a direct hit. She glanced left and right before responding. "Imagine the worst student you've ever encountered," she replied in disgust. Archer nodded sympathetically, but Hoshi wasn't finished. "And then multiply it by a factor of ten!"

Before the captain could laugh, Kras calmly alerted him that Shuttlepod One had just docked. Archer immediately gave the order to vacate the Modinok system.

"Travis? Warp 5. Now."

The helmsman instantly complied, and _Enterprise's_ hasty retreat led to a moment of relieved silence on the bridge.

_Thank God they got back here alive,_ Archer thought . _I'm going to kill them._

Aloud, he addressed his Vulcan counterpart calmly. "Would you like to accompany me to meet our respective away teams, Captain?"

Kovek had explained to Archer who T'Run and Solkar were. Knowing who his First Officer had been speaking about didn't make the captain any happier. _She_ should have been the one to inform him!

With a grim expression, Archer gestured for Kovek to proceed him into the turbo lift. Before entering himself, he sent one general glare around the bridge before securing the change of command.

"Lieutenant, you have the bridge," he snapped as the lift doors shut.

Hoshi sat motionless at the Communications board for a moment. _I have the bridge,_ she acknowledged incredulously. _I have the bridge!_

She was quite proud that she resisted the urge to leap to her feat, pump her arms up and down, and scream "YES!!!" Instead, she strode casually from her station to a point a meter or so behind Travis, hands professionally clasped behind her back, expression inscrutable.

"They are _so_ in trouble," Ensign Burrows, contemplating the fate of the senior officers, murmured from her spot at Tactical. In full command mode, Hoshi gave her a quelling look, and Burrows hastily went back to scanning the Modinok system for any sign of pursuit.

Travis turned his head slightly, barely controlling a grin. "So," he whispered slowly, raising his eyebrows. "You gonna sit in the chair?"

Hoshi eyed him haughtily, then glanced over her shoulder slightly, where the captain's chair loomed like a medieval throne.

_Yes,_ she decided. _Yes, I am._

_Hmmmm,_ she thought as she ensconced herself in the roomy seat. _I like it!_

* * *

The captain's plan to read his senior officers the riot act fizzled almost immediately upon his arrival at the docking bay. The sight of his senior officers hovering like anxious mothers as Phlox and a medic tended their injured comrade melted his resolve.

Trip certainly was out of it. If Archer didn't know any better, he'd say the engineer was three sheets to the wind. Or four. Or five.

At first, Archer thought the engineer had recognized his captain. That is, until Trip commented, "I liked you better with the mustache." He continued to mumble incoherently from the floor of the docking bay while T'Pol introduced the Vulcan away team and explained Commander Tucker's injuries.

Finally Kovek departed with his officers, and Phlox carted his patient off to sickbay. Archer, bemused, stared after the disappearing stretcher for a moment, then turned to T'Pol and Malcolm for some kind of explanation. They shared a look with each other, then Malcolm looked away sheepishly, while T'Pol met the captain's gaze calmly, eyebrow slightly raised.

"I take it you've never worn a mustache, Captain?" Reed nervously filled the silence.

Archer shook his head. "Not since I was a junior in high school trying to impress a senior girl." He reminisced a moment, smiling ruefully. "She didn't like me with _or_ without it."

The captain looked back up at his recalcitrant officers and sighed. "I had intended to dress you both down for the incredibly piss-poor communication skills you displayed while on Modinok," he began. "But I'm too damned tired. I'll do it tomorrow." He gave them a resigned look. "Get some food and rest. I'll expect you at your stations in two hours."

As he watched his Science and Armory Officer depart, he shook his head in weary amusement and scrubbed his hand roughly over his face.

_Maybe when all this is over, I _will_ grow a mustache._ Archer mused.

* * *

Malcolm Reed threw himself into his duties with a vengeance. He refused to stand down until it was certain that the aliens—whoever they were—were not going to pursue _Enterprise_. Even then, he could not remain idle. Inactivity gave him too much time to think, and thinking was decidedly unpleasant at the moment.

More than anything, he wanted to speak to Trip—to apologize, but Phlox was allowing no visitors. Apparently the alien security device had disrupted the normal neurological activity in the engineer's brain, and the doctor required some time to sort it out. And until it was sorted out, Trip was to be kept under sedation.

_Maybe this is a good thing,_ Reed thought as he recalibrated the phase cannons for the twelfth time. _I can use the time to plan out my apology._

* * *

Sub-Commander T'Pol was beginning to wonder if there was some truth to the ancient human belief of karma. Since her return to _Enterprise_, it seemed that not a minute went by in which she was not reminded—painfully—of her hasty and erroneous judgment of Commander Tucker.

Upon hearing of the Chief Engineer's creative plan to disable the Mahdini power relays from Kras, most of the Vulcans from the _Karil_ expressed admiration and a desire to meet the clever human. T'Run and Solkar's account of Mr. Tucker's self-sacrifice, not to mention his knowledge of both Vulcan and the teachings of Surak, created another stir. Suddenly, T'Pol could not go anywhere on _Enterprise_ without encountering a member of her species who wished to learn more about "the honorable Commander Tucker."

Fate seemed to delight in mocking her with her mistake. No matter how she tried to immerse herself in her duties, around every corner was another Vulcan who wished to discuss the admirable qualities of a certain human.

Admirable qualities that she had completely ignored.

* * *

_Enterprise's_ Chief Engineer never believed he would be glad to wake in sickbay. But then, he also never figured that a simple thing like lack of nausea could make him so inordinately happy. Phlox had obviously worked some of his magic. Trip just hoped that it hadn't involved any of the doctor's numerous slimy pets.

How long had he been here? He sifted through his most recent memories, but he knew that he couldn't really trust them. T'Luki and Sonok figured prominently in the fractured visions, but they weren't real people. He also had a distinct memory of his Uncle Jimmy, who had—for some unknown reason—shaved of the glorious handlebar mustache that he'd been cultivating for as long as Trip could remember. The only constant in any of his rambling memories was a beautiful face that hovered over him, concern obvious in her eyes.

_T'hai'la,_ the word drifted through his tired brain.

"Commander!" Dr. Phlox had just noticed his patient's conscious state and was delighted. "It's good to see you awake! Your numerous admirers will be most pleased!"

"Admirers?" Trip asked, confused. Maybe he was still under the effects of the alien security pulse?

"Indeed," Phlox asserted as he readjusted some sort of medical apparatus just above his patient's right temple. "Apparently Kras, Solkar, and T'Run have been singing your praises to their crewmembers. Now every Vulcan on the ship wants to meet you!"

"Every Vulcan?" the puzzled engineer echoed again, unaware that the crew of the _Karil_ had been evacuated to _Enterprise_.

Phlox jovially misinterpreted the question. "Oh, most definitely! And some more than others," he added with a hint of mischief as he adjusted another device above Trip's left temple. "Sub-Commander T'Pol has taken to lurking about like a vampire, inquiring after your condition. I've had to chase her off numerous times."

T'Pol was anxious to see him! That was good news. But before Trip could ask anymore questions, he felt the pinch of a hypospray on his neck.

"Visitors will, of course, have to wait," Phlox said apologetically. "We need to stabilize the disruption to your neurotransmitters first!"

_Damn,_ Trip thought as he slipped back into unconsciousness. One final thought assailed him as he slipped into the pleasant darkness.

_Who the hell were Solkar and T'Run?_

* * *

T'Run approached _Enterprise's_ Vulcan First Officer in the humans' eating area, known as the Mess Hall. She was curious about the etymology of the phrase, because despite the distinct odor of the numerous humans present, the area was quite tidy.

"Sub-Commander T'Pol, may I join you?" she asked.

"That would be agreeable," T'Pol responded, even though she had made an earnest effort so far to avoid the older woman and her disconcerting questions.

The two Vulcans ate their meal in the traditional silence of their people for several moments. Then T'Run spoke. "I have observed that humans use mealtime as an opportunity to discuss various topics," she stated, obviously to demonstrate her intention of following the local custom.

T'Pol nodded, bracing herself for whatever might follow.

The conversation started out innocuously enough. "As a scientist, you must find it fascinating to interact with an alien culture on a daily basis," T'Run began. "In just the short time we have been on the human ship, I have gathered enough data for several studies."

"I would advise exercising caution in your methods of gathering data," T'Pol suggested. "Humans can be sensitive if they feel they are being treated as...curiosities."

"All the humans I have interacted with have been quite agreeable," T'Run assured her calmly. "They are more than willing to answer questions and provide information about their culture."

T'Pol had a sudden sense of misgiving. What kind of questions had the older woman been asking her human crewmates?

"In fact, the human tendency to engage in a communal ritual known as 'gossip' has provided information that supports a theory I developed shortly after our return from the Mahdini planet," T'Run continued. "If it is acceptable to you, I would like to verify my theory."

"What theory is that?" T'Pol questioned calmly, even though she suspected that she already knew the answer.

"That you are engaged in a romantic relationship with the honorable Commander Tucker?"

T'Pol stared at her elder coolly, attempting to formulate a response that would allow her to maintain her equanimity. "What observations have led you to this conclusion?"

T'Run seemed to find nothing untoward in being asked to justify her hypothesis. "Your willingness to risk lives in order to rescue the commander,..."

"The power relays had already been disabled. The only lives endangered were Lieutenant Reed's and my own," T'Pol countered.

"...your failure to fully communicate your intentions to Captain Archer, which appeared to have the purpose of enabling to you avoid violating a direct order,..." T'Run continued after a momentary pause acknowledging T'Pol's input.

"By maintaining communications silence, we reduced our chances of being discovered by the Mahdini," T'Pol reasoned.

"...and the fact that you and the commander referred to each other as _t'hai'lu_ several times during the shuttle's return to _Enterprise_," T'Run concluded.

"Commander Tucker and I are friends," T'Pol explained, recognizing that her arguments were growing increasingly weak. "It is entirely appropriate that we should refer to each other as such." She narrowed her eyes at T'Run. "And I should caution you that humans consider eavesdropping quite offensive!"

"It was not my intention to eavesdrop, _T'Pol-kan_," T'Run said gently. "I was merely concerned for the commander's well-being and hoped to offer some assistance." The older woman's eyes twinkled for a moment. "It became obvious, however, that he was well cared for."

The Vulcan diminutive—and T'Run's ready acceptance the increasingly undeniable relationship—startled T'Pol out of her defensiveness. Perhaps she had been interacting with politicians and diplomats for too long. It was logical that a fellow scientist would be less judgmental about a cross-species relationship.

T'Run's next statement left T'Pol in no doubt as to this conclusion.

"Attitudes are changing, child," T'Run reasoned. "A mate of a different species would not carry the stigma today that it might have in the past." T'Run paused to consider her next words carefully. "From what I have observed, Commander Tucker has many of the qualities to be preferred in a bondmate. There are certainly Vulcan males who are far less...satisfactory...than this human."

The other woman's matter-of-fact acceptance left T'Pol speechless. T'Run's words—the Vulcan equivalent of a ringing endorsement—were liberating. And yet she went on to shock the younger woman further still.

"I realize that I am intruding in a most personal matter, _T'Pol-kan_," the older woman continued. "But these humans intrigue me greatly. I would be most interested to observe and collect data on a cross-species courtship."

T'Pol was stunned at the older woman's audacity, and yet, as a scientist, she had to admit that it _was_ a matter to generate interest. Still...

"I believe I can safely speak for Commander Tucker in this matter. He has no wish to be viewed as an...experiment," she stated firmly.

T'Run sighed. "That is understandable, of course. But would _you_ be willing to keep in touch with me?" she glanced up at T'Pol, and again there was the hint of a twinkle in her eye. "Maybe you wouldn't mind exchanging letters with a curious old woman?"

T'Pol contemplated introducing her elder to the human term "nosy," but decided against it. T'Run meant no harm.

"I believe that would be agreeable," T'Pol replied calmly, after taking a moment to consider the request. "But please do not expect these letters to be overly...detailed."

T'Run twinkled again. "Of course not, child. That would be most inappropriate."

* * *

Malcolm Reed peeped around the privacy screen in sickbay. Bloody hell, Trip was still sleeping. Would he never get the chance to speak to his friend? With the ship swarming with Vulcans, many of whom seemed to have formed a kind of fan club for the engineer, it was nearly impossible to catch Trip alone.

The Armory Officer admitted that he could abase himself in public, but he would much prefer to beg for forgiveness in privacy, thank you very much. As Reed was grousing to himself about the unfairness of his lot, the engineer's eyes opened. "About bloody time," Reed growled.

Trip blinked. "Nice ta see you, too," he replied.

Malcolm grimaced. Not a good start. "Sorry, Commander. I've had a bit of difficulty getting in to see you, what with all the Vulcans running about the ship," he explained. "And every time I manage to escape for a few moments, you've been sleeping."

The engineer grinned wryly. "Sorry," he apologized. "Doc says my innards need the rest."

"No doubt!" Malcolm agreed, the memory of his friend's nonstop vomiting all too vivid.

"So, why am I Mr. Popular all of a sudden?"

"I can't speak for the Vulcans, but I would guess that you impressed them with your engineering expertise, what with you saving their lives and all," Reed responded glibly. "And for your knowledge of their language."

"Yeah, it's gettin' kinda embarrassin'," Trip admitted. "I don't know how to handle Vulcans bein' friendly to me." He hesitated a moment before going on. "But I actually meant, why were _you_ so het up to see me?"

The two men eyed each other for a silent moment. Now that Malcolm finally had the opportunity he'd been waiting for, the words he'd prepared didn't want to come.

"Trip," he began, "I want to apologize for my...assumptions. I acted like a complete and utter ass." Once the words began flowing, Reed found it difficult to stop. "You were in a bad spot, and you needed a friend. And instead I behaved like the lowest of juveniles, asking for details of your sexual conquests. As your friend I should have known, I should have realized...God, I'm such a bastard! You're my best friend. I can't believe I treated you that way!"

Malcolm paused in his self-recrimination to see how his friend was taking the apology. Trip was eyeing him blandly, but the Armory Office thought he saw a gleam of amusement in the engineer's eyes. "Feel free to jump in and disagree with me," Reed encouraged acerbically.

"Oh, I dunno, Malcolm. I was kinda enjoying the groveling," his friend responded drolly. Yes, Trip was definitely suppressing a smile. Reed couldn't keep back his own grin. He should have known that his friend wasn't one to hold a grudge.

"Well, I'm glad you liked it," Malcolm responded dryly. "I've been practicing since we returned from Modinok."

The two men sat in companionable silence for several moments, both relieved and pleased. Then Trip spoke up. "It really bothered me that you thought I'd treat Hoshi and T'Pol that way," he said softly, studiously avoiding Reed's gaze, poking nervously at his IV line.

Malcolm shook his head in regret. "I realize that now," he apologized again. "It's just..." the Armory Officer hesitated, struggling to explain his behavior, both to his friend and himself. "I think I was angry...jealous...that you obviously had a secret, and you wouldn't confide in me." He looked down. "I thought you didn't trust me." He raised his eyes to his friend's for a moment, then both men looked away, embarrassed.

"Yeah, I know," Trip acknowledged. After another short silence, he continued. "But you see now why I didn't want anyone to know?" He looked up at Malcolm hopefully.

The Armory Officer shook his head again, grinning impishly. "Oh, most definitely," he chuckled, trying to lighten the moment. "Nothing shrieks 'I love you'—hysterically, I might add—like attempting to learn your would-be paramour's native language!" He continued to laugh softly, pleased to noticed that his friend was joining him, despite turning red around the ears. "No, I understand. Your secret was very..." He trailed off, searching for the appropriate word.

"Embarrassing? Pathetic?" Trip supplied.

"Well, I was trying to decide between 'personal' and 'private,'" Malcolm admitted. "But those work, too!"

* * *

"Lieutenant Sato, may I join you?"

Hoshi was jerked back to the reality of the Mess Hall from a daydream which involved her sitting nobly in the captain's chair and issuing orders like one of the _bushi_ ancestors her father was always claiming they had. She turned her attention to the Vulcan First Officer in surprise. Although T'Pol had been nothing but professional in her presence, the linguist had sensed a coldness since the gossip mill had thrown their lives into turmoil. She gulped down her mouthful of salad and gestured for T'Pol to take the seat opposite her.

"I have been meaning to relay to you how impressed the crew of the _Karil_ are with your proficiency in our language." T'Pol addressed the Communications Officer while gazing down intently at her own meal.

"Yes, they've all been very eager to speak with me," Hoshi acknowledged.

"It is well that they are experiencing your skill firsthand," T'Pol answered, somewhat off topic, Hoshi thought. At the linguist's confused look, the Vulcan went on. "Solkar and T'Run were of the opinion that Commander Tucker's poor pronunciation was due to the fact that he had been learning our language from a human, instead of a Vulcan. I am pleased that they have now had the opportunity to realize that such was not the case."

"Ummm—" Hoshi began, unsure how to take what appeared to be both a compliment and an apology.

"Perhaps once the commander has been released from sickbay, he can continue his lessons with you," T'Pol added.

"His pronunciation is going to need more than a few lessons," Hoshi admitted glumly, glad that T'Pol had made it possible for them to treat the extremely personal conversation as shop talk. "He might benefit from some...private tutoring sessions with a native speaker," she suggested innocently.

T'Pol finally raised her eyes from her pasta. The two women shared a look. "Perhaps," T'Pol agreed slowly.

"And who better to tutor him than a _t'hai'la_?" Hoshi added mischievously, dropping her eyes back to her salad. T'Pol sat in stone-faced silence for so long that Hoshi could stand it no longer and raised her gaze back to the Vulcan.

"A friend would be the best person to assist him," T'Pol admitted grudgingly.

"Absolutely, Sub-Commander," Hoshi chirped supportively. "A..._friend_ would be the best person to explain to the commander how Vulcan words sometimes have more than one meaning."

Hoshi smiled smugly into her salad, ignoring T'Pol's glare.


	14. Chapter 14

**Miscommunication**

**by Ragua**

Disclaimer:Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.

A/N:All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute

It's done! (And there was much rejoicing. Yay.)

Thanks to gizzi1213 for being my beta.

Thanks to all who have read and reviewed. Hope you like the ending.

**Chapter 14**

"You know another reason I reacted the way I did?" Malcolm asked his friend.

"Hmmm?" Trip was getting tired of the groveling, but his friend seemed to feel that it was true confessions time, so he lent a willing, if weary, ear.

"I was judging you by the way I would have behaved," the Armory Officer said morosely.

It took the engineer a moment to understand what his friend was saying. When he figured it out, he protested. "You wouldn't run around cheating on people, Malcolm," Trip defended him staunchly.

Reed shook his head. "No, my friend, we each see the world through spectacles of our own making. You don't see me as a...a cad...because _you_ would never behave that way." He paused, evaluating his own character with disgust. The obvious corollary was that he had judged Trip the way he did because he himself would not hesitate to do such a thing.

"I don't believe it for a minute," Trip declared.

"Trip, you were stuck in that bloody shuttlepod with me. How many women did I write the exact same letter to?" Malcolm demanded.

"Well, yeah," Trip admitted, "but you weren't with all those girls at one time!" He paused for a moment, uncertain. "Were you?"

"I might as well have been," Malcolm grumbled, completely caught up in self-flagellation. "Why do you think I can't stick with one woman? Why do you think I've never had a successful long-term relationship? Why do you think my counterpart died a lonely death on that other _Enterprise_? Why do you think—"

"Whoa, big fella!" Trip interrupted him. "That has nothing to do with you being dishonorable!" he assured his friend. "You're _very_ honorable, Malcolm."

The Armory Officer cast a look of regretful disbelief at his friend. "It's kind of you to say so, but—"

"You're plenty honorable, Malcolm," Trip went on as if his friend hadn't spoken. "It's just that you're a chicken."

"You don't—I beg your pardon?" The unexpected statement caught Reed amidships.

"Maybe it's 'cause you're a Security Officer, I don't know," Trip cheerily expounded on his preposterous statement. "But when it comes to women, you're a big fat chicken." As Malcolm stared at his friend, dumbfounded, the engineer went on. "Totally understandable. Being in love is pretty scary. Kinda like going into battle with the hull plating offline." He eyed his speechless friend shrewdly. "You've gotta be willing to put your shields down every once in a while, my friend. Otherwise you're going to spend the rest of your life writing form letters to cookie-cutter women."

Malcolm was sputtering with indignation. He had never heard anything so outrageous in his life! "Well, thank you, Doctor Tucker," he snapped caustically. "How much do I owe you for this session on the couch?"

Trip was unfazed by his sarcasm. "Free of charge, Malcolm. I'd never take money for helping out a friend in need." He returned Reed's glower with a cheeky grin. Then his face became solemn again.

"In all seriousness, Malcolm," he said quietly, "there is a favor you can do for me."

The sincerity of the tone led Reed drop the snide comment he was about to make regarding his friend's mental acuity—or lack thereof. Instead, he nodded for Trip to continue.

"Will you apologize to Hoshi?"

"Ah," Malcolm fell back on his traditional, all-purpose, non-intelligent response. He had been avoiding the Communications Officer like the plague. Obviously she deserved an apology as much as Trip did, but the thought of doing so made his stomach cringe.

Trip sat quietly, awaiting his response. When none came, he sighed, casting a disappointed look at the Armory Officer. "It's okay. You don't have to, if you're too scared," he said with exaggerated resignation.

"Scared!?" Reed responded indignantly.

"Well, yeah," Trip answered in mock surprise. "I mean, if you catch her at a bad time, and she doesn't feel like accepting your apology, she might kick your ass again." He nodded understandingly. "I can totally see how that might—"

"For your information," Malcolm replied archly, "Lieutenant Sato has never 'kicked my ass.' Nor will she!"

Trip eyed the fading bruise on his friend's cheek, but wisely refrained from mentioning it. "So you'll be going to apologize to her right away, then?" he asked innocently. Malcolm glared at the engineer, decidedly irritated at the manner in which he was being manipulated.

Trip looked up at the ceiling of sickbay and made a few clucking noises in the back of his throat.

"I take back anything nice I ever said to or about you," Malcolm snarled, defeated.

"Bawk, bawk, bawk," his friend responded, smirking up at the ceiling.

* * *

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," a clipped voice interrupted Hoshi from yet another daydream about captaining her own starship. She looked up into the face of Malcolm Reed, who seemed extremely nervous and ill at ease. "May I join you?" he asked.

Hoshi narrowed her eyes, seriously thinking about refusing him, but then decided against it. "Sure, why not," she answered lackadaisically.

The Armory Officer sat at rigid attention, hands flat on the table, staring at his tray for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eye.

"Lieutenant," he stated formally, "I would like to apologize for the assumptions I made about you and Commander Tucker." Hoshi blinked in surprise. "As you said about people who make assumptions—" The Armory Officer broke off, confused for a moment. "Well, I can never remember the damned quote, but the 'ass' part is most definitely applicable in my case."

"It was extremely wrong of me," he went on, "and if you wish to file an official complaint about any inappropriate remarks or behavior on my part, I will understand completely."

The Communications Officer gaped. She had smacked him upside the head, and he thought _she'd_ want to file charges over a few snarky comments?

Malcolm mistook her silence for continued ire. "Of course, if you are unable to forgive me, that's understandable." He hesitated. "Expected, actually. My behavior was absolutely unconscionable."

Hoshi realized that he might go on condemning himself for a long time if she didn't step in. "Well, sir," she drawled slowly, suddenly delighted to be in the driver's seat. "I could probably forgive you." She paused to consider a moment. "But it would take an awful lot."

Reed, recognizing her teasing tone as an opening, took up the gauntlet. "I would be perfectly happy to make it up to you," he replied in the same vein. "You could stand a little work on your sparring technique," he mused, touching the bruise on his cheek. "Perhaps a few martial arts sessions, free of charge?"

The linguist sat back and eyed him speculatively, arms crossed as if she needed convincing. "Actually, I've been wanting to start up practice with some of the traditional Earth weapons. My father recently sent me some of his collection, including a _jutte_, a _hachiwari_, and an Edo _katana_ that dates back to the 16th century."

Malcolm gawped in surprise, suddenly overwhelmed by the image of Hoshi in armor, wielding a samurai sword over her head. The Communications Officer mistook his silence for confusion. "They're ancient Japanese weapons, used by warriors known as samurai," she explained enthusiastically. "_Hachiwari_ means 'helmet-splitter.' They were used for—"

"I know what they are!" Malcolm interrupted, somewhat alarmed—not to mention aroused—at the eager light in her eyes as she described the weapons. "At least, I know what a _katana_ is, and I can guess at the others."

Hoshi smiled delightedly at his familiarity with the weapons. "Well, it would be great to have a chance to use them as they were meant to be used," she continued avidly. "They're antiques, but they're perfectly serviceable!"

"Let me get this straight," Malcolm summarized, still pleasantly distracted by the thought of the Communications Officer bristling with weapons. "You'll only forgive me if I give you the opportunity to bludgeon me with a big stick and skewer me with various pointy objects."

"If you don't want to, I completely understand," Hoshi responded, suddenly a bit embarrassed about coming off as a bloodthirsty termagant. "I was just kidding."

Malcolm ignored the clucking noise—complete with Southern accent—that suddenly piped up insidiously in the back of his mind.

_I might end up getting killed,_ he thought, _but, bloody hell, what a way to go!_

"Your proposal sounds most intriguing, Lieutenant," he answered, smiling broadly. "It's a date!"

The linguist seemed a bit taken aback by his use of the "D" word. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then both quickly glanced away, unaware that they were wearing the same goofy grin.

The two spent the rest of the meal studiously avoiding eye contact and smirking into their respective plates.

* * *

"Commander Tucker, really!" Phlox admonished. "Your behavior is most childish."

The doctor had been attempting to get his patient to eat for quite some time, with little success.

_Even if I had an appetite,_ Trip thought in disgust, _that bowl of mush certainly wouldn't be the thing to satisfy it._

Their battle of wills was interrupted by a calm voice. "Perhaps I can be of some assistance, Doctor?" T'Pol offered, materializing spontaneously from around the privacy screen.

"Definitely, Sub-Commander," a frustrated Phlox told her. He handed her the bowl and spoon. "He's all yours," the doctor huffed, before he stalked off.

T'Pol and Trip gazed at each other uneasily for a moment. Then T'Pol moved closer to the biobed, taking up the seat the doctor had vacated.

"You have managed to irritate the doctor," she commented. "That is usually very difficult to do. He is normally the most agreeable of individuals."

"Can't help it," the surly engineer responded, uncomfortable with their first conversation since Modinok. "That stuff tastes like crap!"

T'Pol gave the bowl she held a searching look before turning back to him. "As I have never consumed excrement, I will have to accept your assessment."

Trip stared at her in disbelief, a spontaneous guffaw erupting from his throat. T'Pol took the opportunity to plop a spoonful of mush in his mouth.

_Really,_ T'Pol thought as she watched him struggle to swallow, _the number of expressions a human face is capable of is quite remarkable._

When Commander Tucker had managed to down the offending mouthful, he gave her his full attention. "Did you just make a joke?" he asked wonderingly, holding his broken right hand in front of his mouth to stave off another sneak attack.

"The scientists from the _Karil_ have made me realize how important humor is in everyday human interaction," T'Pol responded. "I am attempting to learn the intricacies, so that I may better relate to the crew." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Was my first attempt successful?"

Trip shook his head, still unable to register that T'Pol had made a joke. He began to laugh heartily, but quickly realized it was painful to his fragile stomach and tried to stop. He wrapped both bandaged arms around his abdomen, alternately moaning and chuckling.

"My intent was to make you laugh, not to cause you pain," T'Pol said in some consternation. "Forgive me."

At these words, all laughter disappeared, and Trip raised his eyes to hers. They stared at each other in silence for several moments. Then T'Pol addressed him in Vulcan.

"Please forgive me, _t'hai'la_," she repeated. "My fear led me to see impediments where none existed. I have treated you with dishonor. I have shamed myself. I am not worthy of you." T'Pol bowed her head, unable to continue, awaiting his judgment.

Trip was completely at a loss. A short week ago, such a meek, heartfelt apology would have made his spirits soar—would have made him feel vindicated and self-righteous. Now it seemed inconsequential. In fact, it _hurt_ to see T'Pol so humbled.

"_T'hai'la_," he began and then stopped. He couldn't do it in Vulcan; he just didn't have the right words. Hell, he didn't even know if he had the right words in Standard! But he'd try. "It's okay. It's scary, being in love. It's a scary situation to be in. It makes people do stupid things."

She raised her eyes to his, unable to accept his forgiveness. "I should have known—" she began again.

"Yeah, that's true," he agreed softly. "But...but you see that now. And I'm telling you that you never have to worry that I'd do something like that," he assured her. "'Cause I wouldn't!" he vowed fiercely. "Not ever!"

Despite the passion of his response, T'Pol still seemed unwilling to relinquish her guilt, so Trip went to the bullpen for his ace reliever.

"_Dakh'uh pthak. Nam-tor ri ret na'fan-kitok fa tu dakh pthak,_" he bumbled, in what he knew was an atrocious accent.

"Cast out fear. There is no room for anything else until you cast out fear," T'Pol repeated his words, bemused at hearing the teachings of Surak used to argue a matter of the heart. She tipped her head to the side, wondering how such an emotional individual could be so forgiving.

As if reading her thoughts, Trip dredged up another axiom for his cause. "_Nam-tor ri thrap wilat nem-tor rim!_" he assured her earnestly.

_There is no offense where none is taken,_ T'Pol translated effortlessly, despite the butchered pronunciation. And yet...

"Even a Vulcan would have taken offense at the insult I offered you," she argued, as if illogically seeking some sort of punishment. "I cannot believe that our...friendship...will not suffer from this incident."

"It won't suffer 'cause we won't let it," Trip assured her with determination.

"How can you be sure?" T'Pol questioned hopelessly.

"Because..." Trip hesitated. "Well, that's what being in love is all about." Suddenly, he realized that was the whole problem: T'Pol had never been in love before. No wonder she was terrified! Trip searched desperately for the right words to allay her fears. "Because...because '_Tilek svi'khaf-spol t'vathu—tilek svi'sha'veh.'_"

The simplicity and absolute rightness of the statement took T'Pol's breath away.

_The spear in the other's heart is the spear in your own._

Of course. She had been in pain during their separation because _he_ had felt pain over her accusations, her lack of trust. And now he was suffering because she could not release her guilt, because she feared that his forgiveness was a transient thing.

She raised her eyes to meet his. He smiled tentatively, hopefully.

Their pain—and their joys—would always be shared. They were together.

T'Pol leaned forward abruptly, pressing her lips to his. He squeaked in surprise and then began to reciprocate enthusiastically, clumsily attempting to embrace her with his bandaged hands.

After several long, pleasant moments, she drew back, somewhat breathless, irrationally pleased to see her _t'hai'la_ likewise affected. She took the opportunity to plop another spoonful of mush into his open mouth.

Only seconds earlier, T'Pol might have been intimidated by the outraged look he gave her, but now she was confident. He was her _t'hai'la_. She knew what inducement was necessary.

"The sooner you are healthy, _t'hai'la_," she explained to him, "the sooner you will be able to return to your quarters." He didn't need her raised eyebrow to follow the train of thought to its inevitable conclusion.

Like a baby bird, Trip opened his mouth for another spoonful of mush.

* * *

Jonathan Archer strode through the corridors of the ship, inordinately pleased with himself. He knew he was tempting fate by basking in the sensation, but it had been a long time since things had gone right, so he felt he deserved it.

Tomorrow they would be rendezvousing with two Vulcan ships to offload the _Karil_ crew. The Vulcans had been surprisingly easy guests. Although reserved, Captain Kovek and the rest were unfailingly polite and non-judgmental—something Archer had never expected from Vulcans. In fact, they were quite curious about the workings of the earth vessel and the culture of its human crew.

When he'd asked T'Pol about it, she suggested that—since the _Karil_ crew were scientists whose careers revolved around studying different cultures—perhaps they were more open-minded when it came to interacting with humans. Which made sense to Archer. Normal everyday Vulcans were just more amiable than the politicians and diplomats from the Vulcan High Command.

As the captain rounded the corner, he saw a figure waiting for the turbolift. The very person he'd been meaning to speak to!

"Travis! Just get off shift?" he asked the helmsman.

"Yessir," Mayweather responded, holding the lift doors for his captain.

Once the doors shut, affording them some privacy, Archer asked the question that had been on his mind since leaving Modinok.

"So, how much was the take?"

Travis grinned, not bothering to pretend to misunderstand. "Well, sir, seeing that gambling aboard Starfleet vessels is frowned upon, let's just say that I greatly benefitted from the generous suggestions you made."

Archer smiled back, pleased.

"To be fair, sir," Travis went on, "you should get a share of the pool winnings."

The captain drew himself up, as if offended. "Ensign, it would be inappropriate for the captain to profit from his personal knowledge of his crew."

Mayweather suppressed a smirk, looking at his captain sideways. The lift doors opened, and both men stepped out onto B deck.

"Of course, I wouldn't say no if a member of the crew wanted to buy me a gift during our next shore leave," Archer continued. "Say a couple bottles of bourbon. Or maybe some Andorian ale. A fine red wine is always a nice alternative, too."

Travis couldn't hide his grin any longer. "Well, my parents taught me to always listen to the captain's advice."

* * *

"I had no objections to Lieutenant Reed joining us," T'Pol told Commander Tucker as they left sickbay at a snail's pace. Phlox had released the engineer, but Trip still felt a bit wobbly after being off his feet for so long.

"Ah, Malcolm won't mind," Trip replied, a bit irritated with his friend.

The Armory Officer had arrived at sickbay at the same time as T'Pol, loudly announcing his intention of escorting his friend back to his quarters. From the glint in his eye as he looked from Trip to T'Pol, the engineer knew that this was payback for their earlier conversation. When T'Pol turned a quizzical look on the Armory Officer, Trip had made a slashing movement across his throat, which Reed gleefully ignored. Trip had been forced to convert the "cease and desist" gesture to a head scratch when T'Pol quickly turned back around to look at him.

It took a few minutes of dirty looks and polite refusal to counter Malcolm's insincere protestations that it was his duty as a friend to accompany them. Finally, Reed acquiesced, allowing T'Pol to do the honors. He grinned evilly as Trip gave him one last glare over his shoulder.

"You do not think he was offended by your refusal of his offer to accompany you from sickbay?" T'Pol queried.

"Nah," Trip responded sourly. "And if he was, he'll get over it."

"Are you sure? Perhaps the strange noises he made as we exited were an indication of irritation?" the Vulcan pressed.

Trip narrowed his eyes at the memory of the clucking. "Trust me, T'Pol, Malcolm's fine."

T'Pol inclined her head, ready to accept his expertise on what did and did not constitute an offended human.

"I have been discussing your language lessons with Lieutenant Sato," T'Pol suddenly changed the subject. "We have agreed that you should continue."

The engineer hid a grin at the fact that they obviously had no problem planning out his life for him. He kept his mouth shut, though.

"Lieutenant Sato suggested, however," T'Pol went on, "that you might benefit from extra tutoring sessions with a native speaker."

Trip felt his grin widen. "Hmmmm," he pondered. "Can you think of anyone who might fit that bill?"

T'Pol gave him a sidelong glance, one eyebrow raised. "Obviously," she replied blandly. "I can also see that I will have to broaden my sphere of interaction if I am ever to master Earth humor."

It took Trip a moment to realize that T'Pol had just made another joke. She was teasing him! His jaw dropped, and he gave an exaggerated squawk of indignation. "Ouch, T'Pol. That hurt."

They continued to plod along the corridor in amiable silence. Ordinarily, Trip would have been frustrated at being forced to travel so slowly. Now it seemed like a little slice of heaven!

Suddenly, however, the door to his quarters loomed in the distance. _Ah, shit,_ he thought. _Wouldn't ya know it. Just when things are getting fun._

Would she accept if he invited her in? Before he could phrase the question, she spoke up again.

"Lieutenant Sato also suggested that I explain how certain Vulcan words have multiple meanings."

"I—huh?" The subject seemed to come out of left field, puzzling the engineer. He was saved from trying to form an intelligible answer by having to open the door to his quarters—no easy task with two heavily bandaged hands.

"The word _t'hai'la_, for example," T'Pol continued, preceding him into his quarters. Trip said a silent, "Yes!" She obviously intended to continue their conversation inside!

"_T'hai'la_?" he prodded helpfully, when T'Pol paused. "It has more than one meaning?" When she nodded, eyeing him thoughtfully, he felt a sense of foreboding.

Shit! Had he used a word wrong again? Geez, he hoped he hadn't called her something worse than fat this time!

"Uhm, what else does it mean?" he asked in trepidation. "It's not bad, is it?"

"I do not believe so," she responded enigmatically, increasing his nervousness.

"Aren't ya gonna tell me what else it means?" Trip finally asked, unable to bear the charged silence any longer.

"No." Before he could protest or ask why, she continued. "I will show you."

And with that, she stepped forward and put a lip-lock on him that nearly caused his knees to give out. He only kept himself upright by holding onto her for dear life.

Finally, she pulled back, leaving him gasping. He tried to respond nonchalantly. "Well...I...uh...I guess I won't be usin' that word with Malcolm or the captain, then," he mumbled hoarsely. "But..."

"Yes, _t'hai'la_?" she murmured, stepping close again.

"If that's '_t'hai'la_,' then what's '_ashal-veh_?'"

"_This_ is '_ashal-veh_,'" she whispered, demonstrating.

Trip couldn't see much of a difference between the two. But both were nice words.

Reeeeally nice words.

Maybe he'd have to get her to demonstrate both of them until he figured out the difference. A delighted laugh bubbled up from his chest, causing them to break apart again.

T'Pol stayed in his arms this time, but raised an eyebrow.

"Okay," Trip said, unable to stop grinning. "What about '_ashayam_?'"

Of the three words, Trip definitely liked the definition of _ashayam_ best, but he decided that he'd withhold final judgment until he had more evidence on which to base a conclusion.

"You know, _t'hai'la_," he murmured into her hair after she had thoroughly defined _ashayam _for him, "I'm going to need a lot of practice before I can get these words right."

"As I said earlier, _ashayam_," T'Pol responded. "I am the obvious person to tutor you."

And she proceeded with the lesson.


End file.
